With Rhyme and Reason
by Cyzara Nymphis
Summary: Jonathan Crane has big plans for Gotham City. That is if he can survive an Arkham escape, an idiot ally, Batman, and an even greater foe: a copycat killer of himself.
1. Arkham Again

_Of course I do not own batman, related characters, or any other copyrighted materials _

_A batman fanfic. Yup that right. And the Scarecrow? Oh yes. You know you like it~I don't normally like 1st person pov but this is. Eh, I try. Oh and the difficulty of researching all those phobias and nursery rhymes, bleh. I do have a little CraneNygma thing going on, but it's PG and gets a little slash, sorry if that scares you away. You'll get over it. You were warned.  
><em>

_X-X_

It was cold, dark, and damp, as it always in this damnable place. Arkham is so dreary, especially in the fall. And this cell is so small. Not that I have claustrophobia or anything so trivial. It just when I lose my paper, there isn't enough wall to write on. It angers me that they force me to scribbling on the walls like a madman. I have serious research to conduct; Why can't these fools leave me alone? Especially the batman. Oh, so much for Mondays in dreary September.

"We all dip our heads in the deep blue sea

The deep blue sea, the deep blue sea

We all dip our heads in the deep blue sea

On the last day of September."

I sang quietly to myself, more out of habit than anything. I suppose I could suppress this to only in my head as I use to but so many people seemed so frightened by it...

I shifted uneasily in my bunk, my sides still aching. I took a kick to the ribs earlier this week; Several of my ribs broke and my hand stabbed with a bat-rang, I spent a while in the infirmary. However, I was sent back to my cell early on account of my experiment with a patient's athazagoraphobia. The subject became rather violent; It was quite fascinating, how just ignoring and pretending to forget someone's name can bring so much fear out of a person. In the end, the subject scrawled his own name across the wall in blood. The blood of an unfortunate nurse. Arkham has one good thing about it: So many subjects, so much fear.

I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. I was suffering from a horrible migraine; As punishment for my 'disruption' in medical, they took all my possessions, including my glasses. Dr. Jeremiah Arkham does love his petty torments. I heard my cell door open, though I did not move.

"Come on, Scarecrow." A deep and familiar voice ordered, "Nap time's up. It's time for you session."

I did not move, simply peeked over at Guard Cash, "Please, Mr. Cash. I have a terrible headache on account of losing my glasses. Might we reschedule?"

The man laughed, grating on my ears. Aaron Cash, a veteran guard who clearly suffers from kakorrhaphiophobia, shook his head. After he lost his hand to Waylin Jones, he decided to compensate for his insecurities by bulling the inmates he wasn't afraid of.

"Okay, we can reschedule to after your skinny ass gets out of the hospital because I beat your face in." he shook his hook-hand at me, sneering. "Now, you got three seconds." He drew his nightstick. I sighed, and sat up from my bunk.

"Good choice." The vulgar guard smiled. Two other guards came in and cuffed my wrists and ankles. They stepped out, seemingly uncomfortable with my presence, and Cash smile wide exposing the gap in his teeth, "After you, straw-man." He motioned to the door. I stood and shuffled out of the cell, following the two guards, and Cash close behind, still brandishing his nightstick. They lead me down the dark halls of the cell-block, the screams and rambling of madmen all around. I smiled to myself, so much fear lived within these walls. Just the name of this place made men shiver like children. And all that was kept behind the walls. I sometimes found myself wandering why is it that they fired me in the first place.

"Oh look who's off to see the wizard!" A loud, obnoxious laugh interrupted my thoughts and shot a piercing pain to my head. Pale face pressed against the glass of the window in the steel door of his cell, the Joker's bizarre smile shone like blood on a white wall. "If you only had a brain, eh Doc?"

Cash hit the steel door with the nightstick, painfully echoing through the open hall. "Shut up, Joker! If I have to come in there, it'll be with the fire hose again!"

"What's a matter Cap'ain Hook, can't take a joke? Tick-tock, time's a wastin' Cash; Scarecrow's got a very important date! Late, Late, LATE!" The deranged clown shouted. In the next cell, Jervis Tetch began screaming and running in circles, reciting some stupid poetry by Lewis Carroll, or Walt Disney. Perhaps it was something he had simply made up. I didn't know. I never really cared for Alice in Wonderland, or any other ramblings by an opium addicted pedophile or a judeophobic cartoonist as the Mad Hatter did. And my head ache was putting me in foul mood.

Cash snarled and grabbed his radio, "We need a team to maximum, Joker needs a shower and Hatter needs a nap." He put his radio back on his belt and shoved me, causing my body to ache. "Move it, Jack Skellington! I don't have all day!" I shuffled forward, the binds on my ankles making it ever difficult to keep the pace Cash wanted. I would love to see how scared Cash would be if Joker was not locked up behind a foot of steel and safety glass. Although I can't stomach that clown, he does have a real talent for inducing fear in others. The Joker himself, I believe, has some sort of fear of normalcy or perhaps even a fear of sanity itself but other wise nothing. It would be fascinating to test this further; Unfortunately, my fear toxin has absolutely no effect on him.

We arrived outside the office. The doctor's last patent was leaving. She was some strange girl who found herself unable to speak in anything but song lyrics. A rather uninteresting case. Cash shoved me again, causing me to flinch. I moved into the holding cell they called a doctor's office. Only a large empty desk, the doctor's black, rolling chair, and a steel chair bolted to the floor stood in the room. I sat in the bolted chair; The chair had a steel airplane-cable belt that the guard strapped around my waist to keep me in the chair. Ever since the incident with Doctor Calico and his homophobia, I was only allowed to see female doctors.

"So, Professor Crane is it?" She spoke to Cash. An older woman, round face, gray hair. Nothing particularly interesting.

He nodded, "Remember what you were told. Don't answer any of his questions about yourself. Don't let him touch you and stay on your side of the desk. Mike Calico is still on leave because of this sicko."

"Mr. Cash, Really." She scoffed. "_Sicko_ is an _uneducated_ term. Crane seems to suffer from..."

"Can we get this over with?" I chimed in. "I, ah, have misplaced my glasses and have a terrible headache; And _that_ is what I am suffering from."

The doctor bit her lip, "Fine, I believe that would be best Jonathan." She turned to Guard Cash, "His glasses, please."

Cash walked over and shoved my round spectacles roughly on my face. He turned, heading out, "These two will be outside. I have my own session to conduct with Joker."

The door slammed loudly. The old woman sat down behind the desk. She wore the Arkham normal, white coat, green scrubs marked with the Arkham logo. She wore old black, cat's eye glass. Very tasteless. I sighed; My headache was putting me off from conducting any research with this one.

She thumbed through my file; I wondered what sort of garbage was written in there. A pile of misdiagnoses and things clamming that I am insane.

"So, why don't we start his off right, hmm?" She smiled a phony, smile; She wasn't afraid, yet. "I'm Dr. Maris Brougham."

"Pleasure to meet you Maris. How are you feeling today?"

Smirking, she tapped her fingers on the steel desk, "Ah, yes. Your previous doctors said that you like to try and control the sessions. So, is that what _your_ afraid of Jonathan? Not being in control?"

"No, I'm afraid of bats. Well, not entirely true; I lost my ability to feel fear as a normal person might. An unexpected effect of working with my fear toxin."

She sighed and looked down her nose at the file laying before her, "Alright, if you say so Jonathan. You want to talk about what happened with Dr. Calico? Why is it you felt the need to make all those sexual remarks to him?"

"Well, to test him of course," I leaned back, smiling slightly. Talking of my research always lifted my spirits. "He suffers from a server case of homophobia, probably caused by an encounter he had with a friend as a adolescent and driven to extremes by his catholic up bringing. He mentioned it as he coward in that corner over there."

"What you _did_ do is terrorize the man, Jonathan." She spoke to me sternly. "You caused him to end his marriage and attempt suicide."

I felt a sense of accomplishment, "Fascinating. He responded that much to his fear of his own homosexuality. Very interesting."

"Jonathan, you ruined that man's life, along with the lives of many others." She leaned on her wrinkled hands. She wore gaudy rings on both ring fingers and screaming pink nail polish. "Why do you do this? What do you hope to accomplish?"

I rolled my eyes. How many times had I been asked that same question. It was always 'why?'. I was sick of answering that question, but I did anyway.

"My research, Maris. It's my life's work. The study of fear."

She grimaced, "So was it part of your studies to drug several people with your 'fear toxin' and allowing them to kill each other in a frenzy. After which you dissected their brains."

"Well, yes. If you know a better way to see group effects of fear among humans _and_ the affects on the brain directly, I'd love for you to indulge me."

She went to ask something, but changed her mind. She placed a hand on her overly make-up-ed face, some of it rubbing off on her hand. "Okay, Jonathan. Why don't we talk about something else?" She fidgeted with

with her large hoop earrings. The things looked like something a high-school girl would wear; A tasteless, tacky high-school girl. "So, tell me. You have several suicide attempts here in your file. Why is that?"

I felt a bit beside myself with shame at that question. I, on a few occasions, lost sight of my goals and did in fact try to take my own life. I looked down, studying the stitches on the back of my hand. An unforeseen side effect of becoming immune to my own fear toxin was that I had apparently suffer some kind of damage to the emotional center of my brain. Sometimes, I got out of control.

She picked up on my shame, her eyes narrowing, deepening the creases in her face. "What is it, Jonathan? What made you think killing yourself was an answer?"

"It's this place." I stared intently at my injured hand, avoiding eye contact; the gaudiness of Dr. Brougham's eye shadow was starting to bother me. "I get so depressed here. It really slows my research and is not conducive to my studies. Trust me, in six months, you'll be wanting out as bad as the rest of us. Arkham has an extremely high turn over rate."

"Yes and it seems you have quite reputation for scaring doctor's away." She stood up and walked back and forth behind the desk. Her scrubs and jacket were slightly tight on her plump body. "I have to admit you were quite creative; attempt to hang yourself with your pants, tried to drown yourself in your toilet, trading cigarettes for other patents medications in order to over-dose, distilling a poison from apple seeds and soap, kicking Harvey Dent in the testicles. All these seem to take a lot of effort, and draw a lot of attention. Is that what you were hoping for Jonathan? Someone to pay attention to you?" She sat back down, staring intently at me.

"Well, Maris, actually, any suicide attempt draws attention here," My headache seem to be receding, but the mixture of pungent perfume and joint cream coming off Dr. Brougham was starting to nauseate me. "It's not like I can hang myself with a belt in a closet or slit my wrist in the bath. And I get more attention than I care for in this place as it is. So, tell me Doctor, what do _you_ think is wrong with me?"

"I think you are a manic-depressant with an extreme case of obsessive compulsive disorder, have sociopathic behavior, and have schizoid outbursts cause by suppression of anger and fear. I don't think your as fearless as you say, Jonathan."

I sneered at her. I knew that's what she would say. She thinks that with all her years of experience she walk into Arkham and make a name for herself. Something to retire on.

"Why don't you tell me, Maris, what it is that _you _are afraid of?"

She shook her head, the loose flesh sagging off her chin moving on it's own. "You know the rule, Jonathan. I can't tell you that."

"Oh, but you already have." I smiled, my glasses sliding down my nose. "Your under-sized clothing, awful jewelery, all that make-up. You doll yourself up in hopes of hiding your aging face and body, but it only makes things worse. You pretend that you don't know what others say about you. Delude yourself into thinking that you haven't put on any weight. Wear all that fashionable jewelery in hopes of making yourself seem 'in'. You came here to Arkham after years of work somewhere prestigious I bet. Working with celebrity clients maybe? Thought you could get into the minds of some other famous faces. Make a lasting legacy of your work rather than catering to the petty needs of the people you dress yourself up so poorly to impress. You think that this will make you all the rage in your social circles; that you'd be the life of the party with all your success stories. But really your just an old woman afraid of dying alone and desperately clinging to the unfulfillable ideals of your youth. And you know you'll fail here as you have with your politicians and movie stars."

She stood up, her face in a grimace, at a loss for word. Yes, a good reaction. I had her pegged perfectly. Gerontophobia. And for good reason, this one was not aging well. I was going to try and push it further, but her wrinkled hand swung out and caught me across the face with a sharp snap. My glasses flew from my face, bouncing across the concert floor. Thank god, they did not break; It was so difficult to get new glasses here. Two-face smashed my last pair and it had taken over two months to get a new set.

"Guards!" She screeched like a cat with its tail in a wringer, "Come get him!"

The two guard rushed in, weapons drawn, like they expected me to have a bomb strapped to my chest.

"Mind my glasses, please." I warned them. "They're on the floor."

One of the guard's stopped dead, "Dios mio! Look at his face! Doctor, did you hit him?" Dr. Brougham stood silent, tears running down her face, smudging all her concealer. She was shaking; her breathing was labored and she was turning red. Great reaction, I was thoroughly impressed with it.

"Doctor Brougham

Went to Arkham

In a shower of rain.

She talked to a doctor,

Too much he taught her

And never went there again!"

The guards and Dr. Brougham stared at me with shear terror because of my sudden rhyme; I could not help but smirk. One guard got on the radio and called for another doctor to come up and assist Dr. Brougham. The second guard picked up my glasses and placed them on my face. It stung slightly, but it was a small price to pay for the sake of research.

"Listen, Doc, I hope you recorded your session or this could cost you your-"

Dr. Brougham cut him off, "Get that sicko out of here. Now."

With no further comments, the guards released me from the chair and roughly lead me from the room; Dr. Brougham's sobs could be heard from the hallway.

"You're damn lucky Cash is busy, Scarecrow." The Hispanic guard said, shoving me slightly. "He'da beat you to a stain."

The other guard shook his head, "Hey, ya can't feel too sorry for the old lady. She use to work with all kinds of rich stiffs. What kinda idiot goes from working for fifteen hundred an hour to working with grade-A nut-jobs like Scarecrow here? You ask me the bitty had it coming for being so arrogant."

"Well, yeah, I suppose she could have got worse than Crane. Not much, but yeah..." the guards lead me back to my cell, continuing to talk as if I was not there. I smiled to myself. Yes, that was an excellent session. I believe Dr. Brougham learned a lot today. As that may be true, I probably wouldn't be seeing her ever again. Pity, I think I really could have made a break through given the time. Oh well, such was the folly of Arkham: Just as you think you're getting somewhere things fall to piece.

Arriving at my cell, the guards followed standard procedure of uncuffing me; having me sit on the bunk, one releasing me from the chains, the other ready with his tranquilizer gun. They backed out, one with his tranquilizer gun trained on me until the door was closed.

When they were gone, I took off my glasses and inspected them. Minimal damage, a few scratches and slightly bent. I sighed; I would probably be losing them again soon. Not that it mattered much; I would not be here much longer. I just needed a month or so and I'd be out again. Because, unlike most of the people here, I don't belong here. I have more important things to do than sit here being prodded by amateurs and shoved around by cretins. I have so much work to do, and it's not getting done here.

I got up and walked over to the steel mirror bolted above the sink in my cell. The left side of my face was welted in the shape of a hand. I reached up and touched it, making my face burn. Much worse than I thought. I took the red shirt of my asylum fatigues, undoing the Velcro front with a ripping sound. I folded the shirt neatly, then soaked it with cold water from the sink. I looked back up to the mirror. In the white undershirt I was wearing I looked even thinner than normal. I scoffed. Arkham food was...less than palatable, so I tended to loose a lot of weight here. Not that I ate much anyway. I had to be careful; If I dropped below ninety pounds, Cash'd have me on a feeding tube. Again.

I took off my glasses and set them on the stainless steel sink. Pressing the cold, wet shirt to my face, I laid down on the bunk. My mind reeled with plans to escape this place. Things I had tried, things I could try, and then what I would try. Yes, that would do. It would take some time, planning, and a lot of luck, but it would do just nicely. I felt comforted by newest plan and found myself drifting off to sleep.

X-X

I woke up with as start, something covering my face. I instinctively grabbed and threw whatever it was, backing against the wall of my cell. Of course, it had only been my wet shirt. Feeling rather foolish, I leaned against the cold concrete wall. It was well after lights out and I could hear the night guard making his rounds. From the sounds of a nightstick dragging and bouncing along cell doors, I knew it had to be Nathan Haddock, one of the guards responsible for bringing all sorts of contraband in and trading it to inmates. Mr. Haddock was just the man I needed to see.

I moved over and crouched against the cell door, and began knocking loudly on it. Haddock shined his flash light into my cell.

"Might I have a word with you, Mr. Haddock?" I said still against the door.

From the other side of the steel door, the guard sighed, "Sorry, Scarecrow, got busted selling smokes to a few inmates. They got me on a short leash."

Hm, seems this would be tougher than I thought. I put forth my best pleading voice, "Please, Nathan. I-I need a little amphetamines, please. Just something. Adderall, Dexedrine, or Ritalin, just one pill. I can make it last."

The guard was silent for a moment. "What's it worth to you?"

"A hundred dollars."

Quiet again. I wondered if he had left, but then he spoke up. "Okay. I can't promise you anything, but another patent might just miss taking his meds tomorrow."

I smiled to myself. Wonderful, I already was to acquire the first piece to my plan. It would cost me; that was nearly all the money I had in this god-forsaken place. But if this went as I had planned, it wouldn't matter. I crawled over to my bunk, feeling around on the floor, trying to locate my wet shirt. I found it near the wall, where something else brushed against my hand. Quickly, I grasped the object. I must have knocked it out of the bunk when I was thrashing about like an idiot. I clutched the tiny object to my chest. It was a little medicine bottle. Just a plastic bottle, only a few inches tall and only an inch wide. It had a good seal and was quite sturdy. It had a small mixture of chemicals in it, but it was still missing key components. And it would need a few weeks to cure to the correct potency. This tiny bottle would only be enough for a distraction. Pity.

I grabbed my glasses from the sink. I took the end of the arms of my glasses and worked them into the seam of the mattress on the bunk. Working carefully, I slowly pulled the arms of my spectacles apart and split a few of the stitches, working a small hole in the seam. I put my glasses on, put the bottle down my shirt for safe-keeping, and began to work on the seam with my fingers. I couldn't hardly see, but I managed to get the stitches loose enough to pull the threads out. I made the hole only large enough to slip the small bottle in, which I did immediately. I would have to keep an eye on it. A popped seam isn't too suspicious as long as it stays small. And I had to keep tabs on when they changed the mattresses. It would not do for this to end up in another inmate's hands.

Crawling into the bunk, I smiled to myself. At this rate, I'd be out in a month. I would have to lay low for a while, probably well away from Gotham. But I'd be back. I just would need a little time to get my affairs in order.

X-X

Waking at the six o'clock wake up siren, I sat up in my bunk. Outside my cell, the 'normal' inmates shuffled passed, headed for their morning shower. High risk inmates, such as the Mad Hatter, the Riddler, or myself, we were moved in smaller groups, and showered only every other day. Extreme risk inmates, like Joker, Zsasz, or Mr. Freeze, had an entire team to move them about the asylum, even just to shower.

I walked over and watched out the window on the cell door. Cash was ordering a group of men about. Heavily armored and armed to the teeth. I knew what that meant. It was time for the Killer Croc's monthly physical. Waylen Jones was kept in the basement of the asylum, in an area more like a zoo inclosure than a cell. And to appease a few bleeding-heart liberal senators, they continued to treat Croc like he was human. It was overly risky and accidents tended to happen. In my personal opinion, I think Croc would make a nice armchair.

I quickly lost interest in what was going on outside in the corridor. I had seen this process many times. It was rather uninteresting. If Croc were to break free however...

A guard open the steel door to my cell, "Come on, Crane. Shower day." I reluctantly held out my arms. He cuffed my wrist and waved his tranquilizer gun at me an motioned to the hall. I was not required to be chained on my way to a shower, so long as I was not on Cash's 'shit list'. Hand cuffs were enough.

As I was lead out of my cell, the armored guards were bring the Killer Croc out of the maintenance elevator. The beast was heavily chained and seemed to been on some mild sedative. He stumbled about, growling and cursing.

"I kill you all, eat you, and use the Scarecrow as a tooth pick." Croc said in a rather slurred voice.

"Shut up!" Cash yelled, activating the shock collar Croc was wearing. "Keep your guns on him. He so much as sneezes too hard, shoot him."

The lumbering brute barely seem to noticed the shock; Killer Croc stumbled forward growling, "I'll finish you, Cash."

"Come on, Crane." The guard escorting me said, shoving me. My body still ached from my beating from Batman, and I flinched. Reluctantly moving on, I went to the showers. I hated showering in this place. I shared shower day with Two-Face, Riddler, Great White Shark, and a few others not important enough for me to remember. Two-face had not quite gotten over my suicide attempt and Shark was still upset about me stabbing him in the hand with a fork. They both had connections, with inmates and guards. I did not feel like dealing with the problems they tended to cause.

Getting to the shower room, each of the inmates arriving had their own guard. The asylum had a small army of guards, almost ten guards per one inmate. That did not necessarily guarantee safety. Most fatalities in this place were by guard's hands or while they stood by and watched.

"Hands out, Scarecrow." The guard baby-sitting me said. He ran a hand-held metal-detector over me. It went off. The guard smirked and took my glasses and tried again. It didn't go off this time. He handed me my glasses back.

"Strip down and fold up your cloths." He said uncuffing me. I did as I was told, though reluctantly. I hated this part, particularly now that I was covered in bruises. The guard laughed loud, "Wow, you took a real beating, Scarecrow." He took my clothing and set them on a shelf in the changing room.

He pointed and I went to the showers. I hated the shower room, I hated showing with these freaks, and I hated this damned place. It was humiliating. Such an annoyance. I walked over to a shower head, focusing only on the floor. I blocked out of the others there. I would get out of here as fast as I could.

The sound of a coin flipping caught my attention. I did not move. I held my breath.

"Shiv in the shower?" Harvey Dent's voice was behind me. I did not turn around. If I was going to get stabbed, I did not want to see it coming. Not that I was afraid; I did not feel fear anymore, especially not of death. I had learned a much harder way that death was not the worst thing one could go through. "Not today. Good side. You got off easy." I went to look over my shoulder and Two-Face started to swing at me. I turned back in order to spare my glasses and caught the punch on the right shoulder. I was knocked hard against the dingy tile wall. Instinctively, I rolled away. I found myself right in front of a guard. He smiled a gap-tooth smile and hit me across the side of my face with a nightstick. I watched my glasses fly through the air, seeming to slow as the rest of the world grew dark.

My head hit the cold floor. I could not let myself black out. It would be worse if I did. This had to have been a set up; With Cash busy and his best men handling Croc, there was no one coming to my aid. Shark paid these guys off. I think this was the first time I actually wanted Aaron Cash around.

I tried to get up but I was kicked hard in my already damaged ribs. I couldn't stop myself from curling a ball, on my side, and gasping. Two-Face was standing over me, but turned and walk away.

"You want him dead, have your men take care of it," Dent said walking away. My vision started to blur again, but I fought passing out. Two guards stood over me, nightsticks drawn.

A nasty, rasping voice laughed and in slurred, lip-less speech spoke, "You heard the man. Finish him off if you want paid." I could hear foot steps but I could not focus. Everything was a gray blur.

"I guess it's too bad for you, Dr. Crane." Shark's voice was closer now. "The boys here couldn't get a hold of any guns, so they just have to do this the old fashion way. See you in hell, Scarecrow."

My vision tunneled; I could hear a faint sound, like a small bell. Or a coin.

Yelling brought me back to awareness. One of Shark's guards was thrashing about wildly, trying to shake of a stark-naked Riddler of his back. Of course that conceded idiot had to get in on the fight; It would only mean more attention for the paranoid, obsessive compulsive. The Riddler had an arm wrapped tightly around the guard's neck, choking him. The other guard tried desperately to get a hit on Edward Nygma but his panicking co-worker kept moving too much. Harvey Dent, who had the decency to put on some pants, grabbed a hold of the free guard and threw him against the wall. He walked over and with one punch, knocked the guard out cold.

I slithered away, moving as fast as I could manage in this state. I slumped on all fours over to the wall; Moving along it, I tried to get to the changing area. Maybe there was a chance for me to escape. I could get into the ventilation system. I fit in there better than most of the guards, and I know I still have a few containers of fear gas stashed in the ducts somewhere. Hopefully, Riddler and Two-face kept the guards busy long enough for me to get in the ducts unnoticed. And that I didn't pass out before I made it that far.

I managed to get into the changing room. I pulled myself up on the clothing shelf and grabbed what I hoped were my cloths. Quickly throwing them on, I inspected the room the best I could without my glasses. On the wall behind me was a small vent cover, just wide enough for me to slip in. I knelt down in front of it and pulled hard, pulling the bolts free from the old, brittle concrete. Laying down on my belly, I squirmed into the duct. It was narrow with not much room to maneuver, but I managed to get in. I thought I was home free, until I was jerked strait backward.

"I don't even thing so, Scarecrow!" Aaron Cash's ugly face stared down at me. "Your skinny ass is..." Cash did not get to finishes his threat on account of a huge crashing from the shower room. Water came washing out and up over the step to the showers. Cash cuffed my hands and ankles in a hurry.

"You so much as move an inch, Scarecrow, and I'll show _you_ fear!" He spat at me as he turned and ran to the shower room. With my hands cuffed, there was no way I'd fit into the duct. I decided to wait; I would go with my initial plan. Come to think of it, this may work in my favor.

Several more guards in riot gear ran into the showers. The fighting continued; Cash barking orders, inmates and guards both yelling, and the rush of water was not helping my spinning head. I backed against the wall and tried to hold myself together.

"Get these assholes outta here!" Cash's voice carried over the water and shouting. "And I want these three in a holding cell! Call Dr. Arkham! My radio broke over Riddler's head! This is _just_ what I wanted to do today: break up a fight between a bunch of naked guys!"

I felt myself falling out of awareness. Barely, I felt myself being picked up off the floor by either arm. I could not fight it any longer; I passed out.

X-X

I woke up with a start. I was strapped in a bed in medical, with a horrific headache.

"Ah, Dr. Crane, you're awake." An older male nurse said to me, looking over a chart. "You've been out at least eighteen hours. Let's see here. You should be able to go back to your cell soon, although you're a little underweight for your height. You're barely a hundred pounds at six foot? I surprised you survived that beating; and how the hell did you take on Batman?"

I ignored his comments, "Might I have something for my head?"

The nurse scratched his gray head, and pushed up his square-framed glasses, "Oh, yes. Of course. I was just about to pass meds."

I scoffed. Looking around, I realized I was nearly alone in here. In the bed next to me, with his arm is a cast, was the Mad Hatter. Normally, his company was not so bad, but today I was in no mood to entertain.

Tetch looked over with his wide, toothy smile, "Curiouser and Curiouser, it's Mr. Scarecrow!"

"That's d_octor_ Scarecrow. Or Professor."

Laughing loudly, the fool continued to ramble, "So, won't you join us for tea? Tell me Scarecrow, do you know why a raven is like a writing desk?"

I was starting to get annoyed, "Not a clue, Jervis. If you don't mind, I have a terrible..."

"SAY, Doctor is it your birthday?"

The hatter was really testing my patients. Obviously, this was not one of his better days. It was lucky for him that I was strapped in this bed. "No, no it's not."

"Then is your UNBIRTHDAY!" The idiot gasped and shouted. He then began singing loudly and very off pitch, "A very merry un-birthday to _YOU;_ A very..." He went on and on; The Hatter just wouldn't stop. I pulled at the straps on my arms, but they were secure. I tried to wriggle out of them, trying to slip my hands out of the bonds. Too tight for that. Maybe if I shuffled my head around enough I could get the pillow over my face to suffocate myself.

The male nurse returned, pushing the secured medicine cart. "Mr. Tetch, please calm down. It's time for your medication." He turned to me, "I can let you out of the straps, but you're not allowed to leave medical yet. And if you give me any trouble, Cash is just down the hall." He undid the leather and fleece straps on my wrist. Although, he definitely had his doubts about not keeping me strapped down.

I nodded and found myself wondering what sort of medication Mr. Tetch would be receiving. The doctor swipe his ID card on the lock of the medication cart. In a normal hospital, only medication such as narcotics and other controlled substances were kept in such security; In Arkham, however, you couldn't get baby aspirin without an ID card. The nurse nervously thumb though the packages of pills. He found the ones he was looking for and re-locked the cabinet. He popped the pills out of the bubble packaging, dropping each one into a medicine cup. One was just extra strength acetaminophen and the other was a forty milligram capsule of Adderall.

I held my breath. Maybe there was a way I could get a hold of that. I had to think of something fast. I coughed and clutched my chest, drawing the nurse's attention.

"Dr. Crane, are you alright?" he looked unsettled; he seemed inexperienced, probably new to the asylum. That was perfect.

I nodded, but coughed harder. I took a deep breath, then bit hard into my cheek. I tried not to let the pain show through. I waited until my mouth was full of blood, then began coughing again, spitting blood all over myself. The nurse looked as though he would pass out.

"Crane!" He shouted, nearly in a panic. He was not sure what to do, obviously. Procedure was way different here than in a hospital because of security. "I'll get Cash and another nurse! Don't move!"

With the nurse gone and Tetch still singing some warped song, I had just the opportunity I needed. Lucky for me the acetaminophen was a capsule. I took it and worked it open. I dumped out the medication into my mouth, then set the empty capsule a side. Working as quickly as possible, I opened Hatter's Adderall capsule. Taking the empty capsule, I poured approximately half of the Adderall into it. I put the Adderall capsule back together and placed back in the medicine cup. I took the refilled capsule and slipped it in my sleeve. I knocked the empty medicine cup to the floor. Missing acetaminophen did not draw the attention of missing amphetamines.

Cash, the panicked nurse, and a second male nurse burst in. I made it look like I was catching my breath. I waved my hands, trying to signal I was okay.

"It was nothing. I bit the inside of my cheek when I got in that scuffle in the showers. I broke it open when I coughed. I'm fine. Your nurse just over reacted." I said, keeping up the appearance I was catching my breath.

Cash shook his head, "Damn. I was really hoping you were dying, Scarecrow."

"As always a pleasure, Mr. Cash." I said, flatly.

The head of security shook his head, "Alright, Scarecrow. The nurses here are going to make sure you're gonna live, then you're going back to your cell."

I smiled to myself; yes, back to my cell. I have much to work on.


	2. Not so epic escape

_I realized something most sinister with dread; I like getting into Scarecrow's head. Oh I hope you didn't feel mislead by the first chapter: The Riddler IS in this and IS important, just not in the first chapter._

_X-X _

I lay quietly in my bunk, waiting for the guards to make his rounds. It was almost midnight, and as soon as this guard was gone, I had a ten minute window before the next round. The guard walked by my cell, not Haddock this night. He was one of the guards Great White Shark paid off to watch the showers yesterday.

As the guard vanished from sight, I rolled out of my bunk. I worked the bottle out of the mattress. I sat on the floor, opening and setting the small medicine bottle on the floor. From in my shirt, I retrieved the refilled capsule of Adderall. I worked it open and tapped the powder in with a sigh. Amphetamine salts did not make as potent fear toxin as I would have liked, but one does what one must. I tossed the empty capsule in the toilet, recapped the bottle, and shoved it back into the hole in the mattress. Crawling back into the bunk I smiled to myself.

Sleeping here was never easy. Screams and babbling of the patients here never stopped. It was so tempting to listen in, and forget to sleep.

" He often squeaked, and sometimes violent,

And when he squeaked he ne'er was silent.

Though ne'er instructed by a cat,

He knew a mouse was not a bat."

From the next cell, a voice called out, "Oh, is that you Jonathan?"

I could already feel myself becoming annoyed. "What is it, Edward?" Edward Nygma, also know as the Riddler. An obsessive compulsive with paranoia and an over-the top need for attention, caused by an abusive father. Although I found his personality general irritating and over-flamboyant for my tastes, he was an excellent test subject. He would be so easy to break. So many things that he feared and to such extremes. I could drive him insane so many different ways and some with so little effort. The only reason I had not was because of how much data I could get from him. It was a pity there were not more like him. I would miss him when he finally shattered.

He spoke again, in his normally conceited tone, "Well, I see you didn't get into to much trouble from our little escapade yesterday. I, of course, was able to explain the whole thing to the guards. A misunderstanding of course. And they understood. Oh yes, I mean, it is _me_ we're talking about."

I was too tired to deal with Nygma and had other things on my mind. "Fascinating."

There was a silence. I knew better than to think that he was done speaking; He was just insulted for some reason. "Oh, that's it then. No thank you? Not even a complement on how I kept you from getting your face beat in? Tell me, Spooky, how many people can you scare if your dead?"

Anger was one of the few emotions I could feel normally, and the Riddler always did a good job of reminding me of that. Especially when he calls me 'Spooky'. "Edward, I am quite...put off by your attitude and have no patients for this. Leave me alone. Our session is over."

"Alone, Jonathan? Like you know what it's like to be alone! You probably can't even feel loneliness!"

Great. This again. Edward Nygma, because of his need for attention and desire to be unique, had developed the delusion of being infatuated with me. Because most people who seek my company end up in a rather broken state, Edward seem to get a lot of attention from almost everyone in the asylum for still remaining alive despite how he hounds me. This only drove his delusion farther into believing we had some sort of relationship. I did not care about his delusion or what he told others, however. It made him a more workable patient.

"Your right, Edward. I can't feel loneliness."

I knew he was throwing a fit in the next cell. Compliance with his insults drove him crazy, no matter how true it was. I smirked a bit. Maybe I would test him a little.

"You know what Johnny? I think you're intimidated by me. That I'm the only one you've met that could be smarter than you! No, not could be: AM! I _am_ smarter than you." His voice was starting to get louder. If he did not shut up, the guards would have us both jacketed. Maybe that's what he wanted, more attention.

"Edward, this is all driven by your need for attention, by your fear of being common." I sighed. I told him this every time we spoke. "If I did not bring you all the attention you get, you would not care about me anymore than I do you."

"What? Why do you think that I don't care about you?" He said, almost whining. "You are the only one around here who I can have a real conversation with. You have all the answers to my riddles and are clever enough to solve my puzzles. The only one I have _ever _know in my entire life that comes anywhere near my genius. I mean, really everyone else sees it. If the brain-dead knuckle-draggers around here can see tha-"

I cut his rambling short, "They only see things the way you do because you tell them that it's that way." I went for the first cut, "You _lie_ about it."

"No! I'm not a liar!"

"Yes, Edward. You are a liar."

The sounds of thrashing and things being thrown. Another tantrum. I had to end this quick. "Edward, your father was right: you are just a stupid, cheating liar. Perhaps the beatings you receive were not for nothing. You are nothing more that a common, average, lying cheat."

I definitely got a satisfactory reaction out of the Riddler, but it was not exactly the desired effect. He was now screaming at the top of his lungs and from the sound of it, ripping his mattress to bits. I had only hoped for him to curl into a ball and cry. This could not end well for me.

"Holy mother of God!" I heard a guard shout from the hall. I closed my eyes and let out a long sigh. The guard continued to yell over his radio, "We need team to maximum! Riddler's going ballistic." I could here the radio but was not able to understand what was said. "Yeah, I'm thinking it was Crane."

God. Damn. It. Edward was getting exactly what he wanted. I would get punished, people would talk, and he would get more attention, strengthening his dedication to his delusion. I was starting to think Nygma was out living his usefulness. And what was worse, I had called him a _cheating_ liar. Oh hell...

I could hear the team of asylum guards outside. I heard the Riddler's cell open and the tell-tale sound of a tranquilizer gun being fired. Almost instantly Edward quieted down. The team went in and put a strait jacket on Nygma, then carried him out on a gurney. I heard them wheel him away, probably to isolation.

Then the door to my cell opened. Flashlights shined on me.

"Out of bed, Scarecrow!" I sat up in the cot. Great, thank you, Edward. Three guards stood by, weapons trained on me, "Now, can do this two ways; One: you put this jacket on and come with us without a fight or two: we tranq your ass and drag you out like your boyfriend."

I put my hands up and they tossed the strait jacket to me. I put it on, furious. I turned my back to the guards and allowed them to fasten the jacket.

"Alright Crane, this is strike three." The guard sneered. I did not like that look; Something was up. "Cash said that if you and Riddler can't get along as neighbors, then you get to be cell mates!"

I was shocked; I mean would they really put us in together? I was actually amused, until I realized that meant I'd be in a different cell. I was losing my bottle of fear toxin because of some idiot's need for attention.

"Well, well. You don't look to happy, Doc?"

I glared at the guards, "Edward is delusional. But if you want to risk stick us in together. That's fine with me."

A guard grabbed me and roughly shoved me roughly out of my cell, "Delusional? That's why you were accusing him of cheating, right?"

"On his silly puzzles and games!" I protested, "Edward has a compulsive need for attention. He makes things up to get it. This is just part of his acting out."

"Getting rather defensive, Doc? Well, you and _Edward_ will have plenty of time to talk this out." With another shove, the three guards took me down the hallway and into the lower security area. This is where the double-bunked rooms were. I realized that this may not be all bad. These rooms had vents. I fit in the vents. But first I would deal with Nygma...

The guards escorted me to a cell, where Edward Nygma was tossed on a bunk on the left side of the room. These cells had bullet-proof full glass doors, not the solid steel ones in maximum security. The guards opened the door with a key card, and shoved me in. The door slid closed behind me. I sat on the bunk of the right side of the dark cell. The guards walked off. The fools think that putting me in a strait jacket would keep others safe from me, that it would keep me from escaping? No, this would only strengthen my resolve.

I sneered at the Riddler laying across the room. I would just have to kill him. I leaned over onto my bunk, and picked up the pillow with my teeth. I walked over and stood above Nygma. I would just drop it on his face and lay back on it until the idiot suffocated. I already had an indefinite admittance to Arkham, what would it hurt to murder a cell-mate?

Yet, I found myself hesitating. I could see no logic in whatever it was in me that was holding me back. He was a liability to my escape and a constant annoyance. No one seemed to be able to stand Nygma or his ego, myself included. The man lived in debilitating fear, paranoid because of his needs for notoriety and superiority. I would be doing him a favor.

Then why was it I could not bring myself to kill him? A part of me felt it would be...such a waste. There was so much I could do with him; With the reaction I got out of him now, imagine the possibilities if I added fear toxin into the experiment.

I slumped back onto my own bunk, pillow dropping out of my mouth. I scowled at myself. Forget Edward. Right now, I needed to get out of this strait jacket. I smirked; These jacket were not made for people as thin as myself. I could very easily escape from them. I just needed a little time and room to wriggle. All it took to free myself was to get one of my arms out of the sleeve and into the jacket itself.

I laid down on the floor and began to squirm. This process would take several hours, but it was the best way I knew to get out. And it would be painful, with all the injuries I had acquired this week. Hopefully, with any luck, Nygma would still be unconscious. For what had to be at least two hours, I went back and forth between writhing about on the floor and hiding under my bunk as the guards went by. I managed to get my arm loose just as I heard my cell mate shuffle on his cot.

"Jonathan, is that you?" A groggy and dazed Riddler said.

"No, it your father," I answered sarcastically. Nygma was silent a moment, like he was trying to figure out if I was serious or not.

"That's not funny, Spooky." He chuckled then and said, in a slurry voice, "I found a riddle for you. One I'm sure you would appreciate."

He was not completely aware yet. I may still have time. "Go a head, Edward."

"Riddle me this:

As I was going to St. Ives I met a man with seven wives,

Each wife had seven sacks, each sack had seven cats,

Each cat had seven kits: kits, cats, sacks and wives,

How many were going to St. Ives?'

The riddle he spoke was much clearer than the rest of his speech. I was impressed with the extent of his compulsion. I worked my hand down to the bottom on the jacket and proceeded to pull it up over my head.

"Do you know the answer, Jonathan?"

"Yes. One person was going to St. Ives. Everyone else was going the other way. But you probably have some other, over-thought answer though."

"...Um, No not really." Nygma laughed. No, he was definitely not fully aware yet. I rolled over quickly under my bunk as the guard made his rounds out past my cell again. After he had passed, I threw off the strait jacket and turned my attention to the vent cover in the cell. It was slightly larger than the one in the shower room, and up near the ceiling. I would have less trouble getting into it. I slipped a belt loop from the strait jacket into the grate of the vent. Fastening it securely to the grate, I pulled hard.

"Whatcha doing?" the Riddler, in his drugged state, asked.

"I'm sorry, Edward. But I believe it's time for me to leave."

He got a rather puzzled and sad look across his face, "Where are you going?"

"I'm not sure yet. Just out of here." With my foot against the wall for leverage, I jerked hard. The vent came free of the wall, and I quickly caught it to keep it from making too much noise. I tossed the vent up on the bunk, then proceeded to climb in the duct. But then Nygma sat up from his bunk.

"Wait, I want to go too" He looked a bit more aware. It was starting to worry me.

"No."

He jumped up to his feet, "Then I'll call the guards!"

I bit my lip. Okay, at least on the outside he would have no motivation to follow me around anymore. "Fine. Hold still so I can get you out of the jacket." I undid the Riddler strait jacket then turned back to the vent, climb up into it, "Hurry up if you want to go."

As I moved forward, I could here Nygma climbing up behind me. "It's really close in here, Spooky."

"You call me that one more time, I'll pump you so full of toxin that you'll bleed it!"

"Okay, okay! Damn." He grumbled from behind me. I took a second to think about where we were and where we needed to be. I turned left.

"This way will take us outside. Follow close, because if you get lost, I'm not staying to look for you." I warned him.

"Oh, don't worry I have no problem staying close to you."

I ignored his attempts to aggravate me and focused on the situation at hand. Getting out of these ducts. I lead Nygma through the maze that was Arkham's ventilation system. Until we came to a vent in the basement.

"Wait, I thought you said this was the way out." Edward whined. "If _I_ had been leading we would-"

I held out a hand to shut him up. Pushing the vent out of the wall, we came out in a small control room. "We need a distraction or we will never make it off the island." I walked over to the the control board and scanned over it. There was the switch I was looking for.

"What are you doing?" The Riddler looked over the board himself. "Wait! You're not-"

"Yes. I believe Mr. Jones is in need of a little exercise." I press a switch labeled only 'Danger'. Sirens started going off and there was a screeching metal sound. I turned and crawled back into the vent, Nygma hot on my heels.

"Great job! I was thinking the exact same thing!" Edward exclaimed. Sure you were. I really was starting to wonder why it was that I did not kill him when I had a chance. Too late to worry about that now. I shuffled through the vents, knowing exactly where I was heading next. Edward, as per usual, was making obnoxious amounts of noise. Clanking, shuffling, falling, and swearing, he was going to give us away. Normally, I avoid violence but I felt this situation called for it. I kicked directly back, catching Nygma in the face.

"Ack! What the _fuck, _Spo-Scarecrow." Nygma growled. "Did you take some kind of martial art or something? Damn, that was on hell of a kick for a scrawny little thing like you! My jaw is-"

"_Shut up, Edward_!" I hissed, realizing I was using my _other_ voice. My _real_ voice. "_You are making so much noise it's no wonder we aren't already back in our cell_."

He was silent. Finally. I started moving again. Nygma was still following, shuffling quietly now. It was only a little further until we got to the exterior of the building, then I would be rid of him. By this time, all the alarms were going off in the asylum.

"Category nine patient loose in B-1. Be advised, Category nine patient loose in B-1." the computerized woman's voice came over the PA system. Jones had been noticed but not us yet.

"Category nine." The Riddler said, testing my patients. "You use to work here, Is that for us?"

I hesitated a bit. _Use to?_ " I though you knew everything, Edward. Category nine is the most dangerous possible patient. There are only three category nines here. Joker, Freeze, and Jones."

"Oh Croc, right. They must not have noticed yet; Morons. So, what are you? What category?"

"Varies. They have me anywhere from six to eight. Depending on my...behavior."

"What am I?"

I smirked, "Four."

"Four?" Edward grumbled. "Me, a four? Really, I should-"

"_You should shut up._"

We were just about there. Once we got out of the building, we needed a way across Gotham bay. We'd have to get a boat; Swimming across in this cold would not do. I do not handle cold well. Crawling through the last stretch of the ventilation system, not far now. There was a small maintenance room that led outside of the asylum. From there, we would get to the docks and on to Gotham.

We arrived at the maintenance room. I crawled out of the vent carefully. The room was empty. Edward fell out of duct, swearing and kicking anything near by. I ignored his tantrum, and leaned against the door, pushing it open slightly. I scanned the area. About a hundred feet to the docks. Three guards on the dock, two in the watch towers, and one on patrol.

"Let's get 'em!" Nygma nearly pushed past me. He stopped however, and smirked. "Just kidding. I have a plan! We could-"

"Let me come up with a plan." I pushed him away to a comfortable distance. "Give me a second."

"But why? You know _I_ would come up with a superior plan. I mean look how far we got. _That _was because of me. I mean, this was the way I had planned it all along."

I looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. He lost the confident look from his face. I shook my head, "If that makes you feel better, Edward. Just let me handle this part."

He had no response for me. Turning my attention back outside, I studied the situation. One option was to send the Riddler out to distract the guards and make a break for one of the boats on my own. Yes, I think that will do.

"Edward."

"What's up?"

I went to speak. I could not make myself say what I was thinking. Damn it. I was starting to think I had suffered some kind of brain damage. I took a deep breath. "Stay low and follow me."

Ducking down and darting out of the door toward a pile of crates and barrels. Edward followed, actually quiet this time. The patrolling guard came our way, although I was sure he was only walking route. He stopped as his radio went off.

"Immediate assistant is needed! Please! If anyone...Oh Gawd! It's Croc! Croc's on the first floor!" A terrified voice screamed over the radio. I stifled a snicker; The patrolling guard ran full-speed to intensive treatment. The guards in the towers turned there attention to the building, and two of the dock guards turned and ran to the building. Perfect.

The running guards shout back and forth to each other. The one remaining on the dock yelled the loudest. "Cash is on the way! I'm taking a boat to the mainland to get him now!" I grabbed Edward by the wrist. We had to get on that boat. Taking one on our own would attract too much attention. We had to get there before he left. Running, head down, I darted for the dock, dragging Riddler behind me. I still had use for him. Getting on the boat was one thing, but over taking the guard and impersonating him was another. The guard rushed on to the little craft, a small thing, barely a speed boat, with a square cabin hardly bigger than a phone booth. The two of us followed, keeping lower than the windows of the boat. The guard was in the cabin and Nygma and myself were leaning against the aluminum door to the cabin.

_Wait until we leave._ I mouthed to the Riddler, hoping he understood. He nodded confidently. Based on the fact he did not move, he must have really understood. The boat started and began pulling away from the docks. Just need to wait until were about half way to the mainland.

I suppose I should not have been surprised when, just as the boat cleared the dock, Nygma slammed through the door, kicking the feet from under the guard. The downed guard grabbed for his radio. I was on him in a flash. I tried desperately to wrestle the radio away from him, just keep him from turning it on at least. This man was at least twice my size; It was getting difficult in this confined space to fight him. I then noticed the Riddler was no longer in the crowded cabin. Had he abandoned me? I must have miscalculated the extent of his compulsiveness...

Suddenly, with a deafening bang and blinding flash, the guard I was wrestling with no longer fought back. I could not see anything; I felt the hot splash of gore and the burn of sparks, then silence. I sat up, reaching out to get some leverage to pull myself up. Nygma took hold of my arms and helped me to my feet. I pulled away and leaned against the cabin's aluminum wall.

"Sorry, Spooky. I could see you needed a little help. I didn't mean to blind you.; Or make you look like something from _Saw_."

I removed my Arkham shirt and used it to wipe the blood from my face. "Edward, I believe I asked you not to call me that again."

The Riddler stepped past me. "Technically, you _threatened_ me, not asked. But it's all the same to me. Anyway, while you were rolling around with that unfortunate obese guard, I switched off the vessel's lights and got into the emergency kit. Riddle me this: I am a weapon but not to kill, I can dazzle but not to thrill, I guide both the lost and the seeking. What am I?"

"A flare gun." I took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes. "You shot that guard with a flare gun. While you were at it, did you get on the radio and tell the rest we're out here?"

"Not to worry, Jonathan." I could not quite see yet, but I knew he had that confident smirk on his face. "The oblivious guards haven't tried to contact the ship, so they are not aware we're on it."

"Fine. Then where are we going?"

He was silent a second. "Riddle me this: I feed many men for a day for the right price, but only a few for life time. What am I? "

Of course it was a play on an old Chinese proverb. "So to the Gotham fishing docks. I suppose that is a start. But tell me this, how do you suppose we are to dock there? Not to mention, we are wearing Arkham fatigues, have a dead body in the cabin, and I am covered in blood."

"Err, well...Of_ course_, we're not landing there." Nygma was hesitant; Coming up with a new scheme off the top of his head no doubt. "We'll abandon ship and leave the ship running so it crashes into the dock causing a distraction. Mean while, you and I will swim to shore. You can swim, right?"

"Yes, but I tend to avoid it in thirty degree weather." I could see again. Edward was at the helm of the ship, steer us toward the fishing docks. Scorch marks and blood covered the small cabin. The dead guard's face was completely blown off and blood had covered the entire floor of the cabin. I was covered in blood; I needed to make sure I ran some blood work on myself to be sure I had not caught anything from that unfortunate guard.

The Riddler was unaffected by the idea of frigid water. "It won't be that far. I have a safe house about nine miles from here. We could-"

"I have one closer. And less likely to draw attention."

Nygma looked annoyed, "Yes, but they will search near the docks when we crash into them."

"That's why we are not going to. Move closer to the shore. Now."

"Jonathan, what-" I held up a hand and he went quiet. With a shrug, he turned back to he helm, taking us nearer to the shore line. When we were roughly thirty yards from the shore, I reached around Edward and turned the boat off.

"Edward, get the flare gun and put the second shot into it."

He looked confused for a second, but then got a smile across his face. "Amazing Jonathan!" He quickly did as he was told. I turned and went out of the cabin. I inspected the deck; It was wooden planks lain over the aluminum hull. Not well kept wood. I stomped as hard as I could muster. The wood easily gave way under my foot. Edward came out of the cabin, flare gun in hand. I snatched it from him before he could even make a comment. Getting down on my hands and knees, I stuck the gun down in hole in the deck, muzzle against the aluminum hull. I pulled the trigger and the flare ripped right through the aluminum like a bullet through a soda can. Water began rushing in.

"Come on. Let get off before it goes down too much. I don't feel like getting pulled down by the undertow." I turned and walked to bow of the ship; I took a deep breath and put my bloody glasses in my pocket. I closed my eyes and jumped into the filthy, near-freezing waters of the Gotham river. I went completely below the surface. My body screamed out from the shock of the water, but I was in control; or at least was for awhile. I began losing all feeling in my body. The icy blackness that surrounded me stung and numbed me. In the cold silence, I heard my own heart beating, steady and quietly. I wondered if this was what it was like to die.

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted as I was pulled to the surface violently. Edward had a hold of my undershirt, pulling in close to him.

"I got ya, Scarecrow." His voice was trembling, only from the cold. I tried to fight, but I realized that I could not hardly move my limbs. I was too cold. Edward slung me over his back and began swimming to the shore. All I could manage to do was weakly hold my arms around his neck.

We shortly arrived on the shore. I could not hardly stand on the rocky bank. Edward, however, seemed just fine. He turned to me, no smug look, no arrogance showing. Not his toddler-like anger either. He looked...odd.

"So where's this hide out of yours?" He said with a shiver.

I gasped and shook. Damn it all to hell. I could not hardly speak, "...on n-ninth-th...Vine a-and...S-S-Sons..."

Putting an arm around my shoulders, Edward helped me along, "I know where that is. Just don't die on the way there. Riddle me this: I creep in all the cracks, I give teeth to air, glass to water, fluff to rain, I do not really exists, I am the lack of my opposite. What am I?"

"C-cold..." I was starting to lose awareness. I could not hardly walk. Nygma bounced me hard.

"Of Course, Jonathan. Let's try this one. Riddle me this: I am everywhere though without substance, I am both friend and foe to the wary, I own half the day, My mother is my murderer. What am I?"

I was dragged along. I could not feel anything. I was shook roughly again.

"What's the answer?" Nygma's voice sounded so far away. "Jonathan?"

"...d-dark...ness..." And it was definitely closing in. Another rough shake. Edward was trying so hard to keep me conscious. I suppose this would just be another failure to add to his list.

"Hmm, I think that one was too easy. Riddle me this: To the young, I am enemy, To the old, I am a journey's end, To the suffering, I am mercy. What am I?"

"...death..."

X-X

I started to become vaguely aware of myself. I did not know where I was. It was dark, warm and dry. I felt like I was weakly restrained; I could faintly smell chemicals. A hospital? No, there was also a faint smell of mold and straw, and the blankets I was covered with smelled old. And another smell I could not quite place, a kind of warm smell, slightly musty. I could hear the creaking of old wood in the wind. And breathing. Perhaps my own. No, it was someone else.

I became fully awake. I was in the basement of my hideout, Vine and sons. The room was lit by a old table lamp. I wondered how it was that there was electricity in this place. I turned my attention to what was holding me down. As it turned out, I was not restrained. It was Edward; he was curled up around me. He was sound asleep, drooling on the back of my neck. I felt slightly annoyed; But grudgingly grateful. He had not only got me back to the safe house but had also saved my life. His delusion must be much stronger than I believed it to be; This could prove to be of use to my research with him.

I went to move but found myself rather weak. I manage to shift enough to get the Riddler to stop drooling on me. This caused him to mutter something in his sleep and pull me tighter to him. I was starting to get even more annoyed. As soon as I got a hold of the fear toxin I had hidden in this place, he was getting a double dose.

"So, you finally awake, Jonathan?" Nygma said in his smug, arrogant voice. "You out did yourself last night. I was scared to death. And an abandon funeral home? You're really stuck on this fear thing, aren't you?"

I tried to get away from him, but he led me tight. He was really testing my patients. We were on one of the embalming tables. With not much room to move away from him, so I stopped trying.

"Edward, let go of me."

He smirked, but did as I asked. I got up off the table. I was not wearing my Arkham uniform anymore, but a gray-green t-shirt and black sweat pants. I set my bare feet on the icy tile floor. It was freezing in the room; My breath was hanging in the air. I shrugged it off and went to an old wooden cabinet against the wall. My glasses were sitting on it, next to the lamp. I knelt down and began searching a cabinet. Nygma laid back down on the table.

" 'Edward, Thank you so much for not leaving my creepy, skeletal ass to freeze to death on the street' " Edward said, doing a poor imitation of me. He waved his arms around like a fool. He also had a change of clothing, a screaming purple t-shirt and bright green pajama pants. Ever sticking to his need for attention, even when he was away from all others. "Oh, why, you are most certainly welcome! Glad I could help you!"

"Thank you, Edward." I said, shuffling through some glass vials and other lab equipment.

"What?" Nygma sat up. He looked bewilder. Running a hand though his bedraggled red hair, he nodded. "Oh, your welcome, Jonathan." He laid down again. "So, what is our next move then?"

I stopped searching for a second. I looked over at the Riddler, laying on his back, hands behind his head. "Well, this is where we go our separate ways."

"What?" He jumped up on his feet and leaned over me as I continued to shuffle through the cabinet. "But we make such a great team! I mean, look at it. You were only in Arkham a week, we team up and break out! They haven't even announced we're at large yet!" He was doing his usual theatrical argument. Hands waving, extreme expression. Very interesting reaction.

"Edward, I can't have you here interrupting my research." I found some sealed vials of fear toxin. I stood up and shoved the blankets off of embalming table. I set the vials down and opened a cabinet on the wall. "That is unless you would like to help me."

Edward was not really an idiot. He knew exactly what I meant. He just chose to ignore it. "Listen, Jonathan. What are you going to do? I mean, do you have the money to take on a new project? I could help you. I have money, a better, more liveable place to stay. Outside of Gotham. I think we could do great things together."

"I'll manage. I thank you for your assistance thus far, but I think you would be better off not staying here." I found some still packaged syringes. I pulled them out from the dust cabinet and removed one from the package.

"Come on, Jon." He had a whine to his voice now. He turned his back to me. "I know your not the most _social_ person, but would it really hurt you to work with someone. Come on." He turned around, face to face with me. I took hold of his right hand. He had such a look of hope on his face. Until I turned his arm over and stuck a syringe in it. His eyes dilated and a look of disbelief came across his face, as I injected the double-dose of toxin.

"Wha-Why did you do that?" Nygma stumbled back, tripping. I caught him, keeping him from hitting his head on the porcelain embalming table. I eased him down to the floor.

"_Because you said you wanted to help me_." I stepped away from him, smiling.

"You-you," He shook. I was sure he was going to spit a slur of insults at me. So I was rather surprised at what he said, "...won't do this everyday, will you?"

I was speechless; He was still willing to stay. I sighed, "I don't think so, Edward."

"Then...I think I can deal with it." He was shaking now. The toxin was a bit old; I think it may have lost it's potency. I was curious to see if this was so.

"Edward?" No response. I hoped that the fear toxin's age had not made it lethal. I reached down to feel his pulse.

He coward away from me, screaming. "No! Daddy, No! I wasn't lying!" He grabbed my hand and began sobbing loudly. "Please, don't do it again! I wasn't lying!"

I jerked away from him. Splendid. Age seemed, thus far, only to delay reaction. He was sweating and shaking; Screaming and cowering away, he seem to be reacting as though he where really being beaten. I wondered if he could feel it. Nygma crawled across the floor, until he touched the blankets on the floor. His mouth dropped open, and he shuffled backward. He let out a blood curdling scream. I could feel the smile stretching across my face; What was he seeing? How I wished I had a proper set up here. I should be recording this.

Tears streamed down Edward's face. He put both hands over his mouth. He inched closer to the blankets, on all fours. I, myself, was inching in as if I would be able to see it as well. If only I could.

"No...no." He sobbed so loudly. "NO!" He pulled the bundle of blankets to his chest as if he were holding a person. I stood over him now. What was he doing? Who was he seeing?

Edward was crying into the blankets now. Fascinating. The toxin caused that strong of a hallucination, to see a bunch of blankets as a person. A dead person.

"Edward." I grinned broadly and said. I shifted voices, "_Edward._"

Loud sobs.

"_Edward. What are you seeing?_"

More sobs. "I'm s-sorry..." Nygma cried desperately, burying his face in the blankets. Maybe he was remembering something. I had to know who it was he was seeing.

"_What did you do, Edward?_" I was down right next to him now, whispering in his ear. His eyes were dilated as wide as they could possibly be, the green of his irises almost gone. He was breathing hard and shaking violently. I could almost hear his heart racing. I smiled, "_Who did you kill?_"

"NO! I didn't do this!" He screeched inhumanly. He looked over the blanket he was seeing as a body. "No...it was...I don't know what happened...I'm sorry..."

It wasn't denial; Maybe this was not a person who was actually dead yet. Seeing the death of a friend, fascinating. These cases end in so many ways. And are so much fun. But who could he possibly be seeing?

"_Who is it, Edward?_"

"Jonathan...I'm so sorry..." He held the bundle tight. He was not speaking to me; he was _seeing_ me. In the hallucination. I felt the smile fade from my face. I backed away from him. A strange feeling washed over me. I was no longer interested in the experiment. I did not want to look at him. I had to be away from him. I turned and walked out of the room; Edward was screaming again. I couldn't stand the sound of it.

I stood in the next room. It was empty with the exception of a few heavily damage chairs. I sat in one of the less destroyed chairs. My back to the room where Edward was on the floor screaming my name.

"What a naughty boy was that

Try to drown poor Pussycat,

Who ne'er did any harm

But killed all the mice

In the Farmer's barn."

I found myself muttering. I shook my head. What went wrong? I was wasting valuable time sitting in here. I should have been making observations, finding some way to take notes. But I could not make myself go back in there. Not until he stopped screaming.


	3. Copycat

_I do a little POV switching, mainly because Crane goes cationic. I apologize for for a little changing of the plot that makes this more slash than I intended. I elaborated more than I intended on the whole back and forth in Arkham. Oh well, I'm only a fangirl. I can't help it! You were warned._

X-X

We sat in silence in the car Edward had rented. He was not looking well; His face was slightly swollen and his voice was horse. He had not even bothered to change out of the cloths he had slept in; he was still wearing the lace-less canvas shoes from Arkham. Normally, he would have be talking up a storm, but he had not said hardly anything. I was driving us to a place Nygma had specified to get a few thing he said he needed. Knowing him, it was probably just to get a bunch of junk food and crossword puzzles. Things we could have gotten at a gas station, but of course he has to elaborate on everything.

Any other day, I would have been fine with silence, especially from the Riddler. However, I found myself wanting him to say something. Anything.

"Edward-"

"Shut your fucking mouth." He snapped. "I'm not telling you anything about what I saw."

"I wasn't-"

He cut me off, "You know what? I can't believe after I got you out of Arkham, and _save your fucking life_, you still pumped me full of that shit! You want to know what I saw Jonathan?" He snapped at me. I did not look at him; I wasn't going to play this game with him. I focused on the highway. It was not all that busy, so there was not much traffic. But I wasn't about to risk my life because of his petty needs. I must admit that if there was a part of me that still felt guilt, it was responsible for what had happened the day before. But it was gone now. I wasn't in any better mood than Nygma was. I had missed out on so much data because of that little relapse.

"Answer me, you sick bastard!" Edward was grabbing on me now, hard. The car swerved; I pulled over to the shoulder. I turned off the engine and turned to him. I stared hard.

"No, Edward. I don't."

He sneered, getting back a little of his arrogance. "I saw _you_. You were dead, looking like you got mauled by a goddamn bear! For hours, all I could see is your mutilated corpse. I would have rather seen my father! Goddam it, Jonathan, are you listening to me?"

"Yes."

"I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, but..." Edward looked down at the dash, taking a few deep breaths. He seemed to be calming down. "You tried to warn me, didn't you? You told me to leave."

"Yes."

"You really can't help it, can you?" He laughed, leaning back in the car seat. He bit his lip and sighed. "Tell me something: If you don't give a damn, why is it you didn't just keep shoot me up with that stuff until I dropped dead?"

"I didn't want to." I looked strait ahead, avoiding his gaze. "I could not make myself even go near you until it wore off."

I felt his hand touch mine; It annoyed me. I looked over at him and he grinned broadly. He said nothing. I wanted to punch that smile right off his face. I did not. I turn the car back on.

"Where are we going?" I said flatly.

"Where I said earlier." Edward leaned back in the seat, hands resting smugly behind his head, smirking. "I need new cloths and a new cane."

"Cloths?"

He sighed dramatically, "Yeah, duh! You maybe happy in your ugly black turtle neck and tasteless black jeans, but I can't believe I'm wearing these polyester rags!"

I drove. And he talked. God, did he talk. And I listened. Edward spoke about anything and everything he could. Mostly, it was about himself. He loved talking about himself. His ego knew no bounds, but all it was was a tarp to hide his insecurities under. And it was not enough to cover them. Everything and anything a person could worry about when it came to one's self, he worried about it. I could not see how the fear toxin had not killed him. Or maybe this is why it did not. He was always in constant fear. I would have to find out what was wrong with me before I could do anymore research on Edward however...

"...And so I was sitting there with Harley. And- you don't mind if I turn the radio on do you?" Edward did not wait for me to answer. He flipped on the radio. "Oh my god! I love this song! -Don't stop! Believing! Hold onto that-"

The music stopped on the radio and a female announcer came on. "We interrupt this broad cast to bring you breaking news. The criminals Edward Nygma and Jonathan Crane, also known as the Riddler and the Scarecrow-"

"Oh ye-ah!" Nygma laughed "They said my name FIRST!"

"Shush!" I put my hand out. Something was up.

"...take you the scene of the murder with Jack Ryder." Jack Ryder, a popular Gotham reporter, came on to the radio. "Thank you, Briana. You have heard correctly, folks. It seems that local celebrity, Amie North, who appeared on the Real World, was murdered. The police seemed to believe that the Scarecrow was involved. Ms. North was allegedly killed by the suspect. She was locked in her walk in shower with no less than eighty tarantulas. The victim apparently suffered from arachnophobia and died of fright. The police also confirmed the presents of the chemical hallucinogen used by the Scarecrow. However the most chilling thing is that after Ms. North had died, the perpetrator slit her throat and wrote a _nursery rhyme_ in her blood. Sources say-"

"Wow, you were busy last night." Edward laughed. "Jonathan?"

I could not speak. I had obviously not been involved in that mess, but that was the least of my worries. Someone was out there, right now, _stealing my research!_ I could not let this happen. I would not let this happen.

?-?

Jonathan looked pale; I mean he's already like Casper's ass and wears all black, just making it worse, but he somehow managed to get even paler. I didn't know what was going on, but Spooky was not happy. Or watching the road! The car swerved all over, nearly hitting a truck head on. At first, I though he was just trying to scare the hell out of me. Then I noticed he had a completely blank stare. If he was trying to scare me, he'd look happy about it. I leaned across him and took the wheel. I crawled in his lap and took control. I drove us to the side of the road. I threw the car into park and shut it off. Crawling out of Jon's lap, I shook him hard. Nothing.

"Jonathan?" I waved a hand in front of his face. " Scarecrow? Jon? Johnny? Spooky-cakes?"

I figured that last one would get me killed, but nothing. "Hello. Earth to Dr. Crane!"

"Dr. Crane isn't seeing patients right now. If you would like to speak to him, you need to make an appointment." Jonathan said in a flat voice. Not his scary voice, but just a blank, almost robotic voice. Oh dear, Johnny had gone bye-bye.

I sighed, "Jonathan. Okay, when is the earliest I can see Dr. Crane."

He just stared a second, "April fourth. Four P.M."

I held back a laugh. There is never a dull moment with Jonathan. Oh, but what to do with my near catatonic friend. I got out of the car, grabbed him, and pulled him over to the passenger seat. I then shut the door and walked around to the driver's side and got in.

I thought a moment. "Could I speak to Dr. Crane if it is an emergency?"

"Dr. Crane doesn't take emergencies."

Like any puzzle, I could figure this out. Of course, I would; I am a genius after all. I started up the car. "Okay, If Dr. Crane doesn't take emergencies, what do you want me to tell Mr. Nygma?"

"That he can go to hell."

Well, that was unexpected. Not only is he 'robot receptionist' but a rude one too. I started driving, no reason not to finish the task at hand. Jonathan obviously wasn't going anywhere. I was starting to wonder if he was just messing with me. I guess I should test him again, just in case.

"Hey, Spooky-cakes," I poked at him. Nothing. I poked at him again, "Sugar-bugs, Scary, pumpkin?" Nothing at all. Even if he was just jerking me around, one of those would have set him off. No, he was definitely off in oblivion. Hopefully, or I'm one dead genius.

"Listen, It is extremely important I speak to Dr. Crane, or Jonathan, or at least Scarecrow." I probably would regret the latter, but it would be at least a start.

"You want to speak to Scarecrow? He's the only one in right now."

"Yeah, Scarecrow's good."

A sudden change came over Jonathan. A twisted smiled stretched across his face, his round glasses slid down his nose, his dark hair fell out of place, and a deranged light shown in his eyes. God, I could see why he put a bag on his head when he got like this.

"_Edward?_"

Ugh, there it was. That creepy-ass Dr. Mind-rapist voice. Alright, steady, Nygma. It's Jonathan. I just had to learn to deal with it. "Yeah, where'd Jonathan go?"

"_Why do you ask?_" That voice was like nails on a chalk board. "_Do you miss him? _Afraid_ he won't come back?_"

"No. I know he'll come back eventually. Why'd he leave?"

Scarecrow cackled. It was so strange hearing any kind of laughter come out of Jonathan, no matter what side of him it was. "_He was very upset. About the murder on the radio._"

Upset? Jonathan? If he wasn't the one saying it, I would not believe it. "Why?"

"_Someone is out to steal my work!_"

"So that wasn't him-er, you." I corrected myself. Remember, that _is_ Jonathan. Just because he wasn't being his stoic self didn't mean he was someone else. He obviously was just using this to deal with this whole 'stealing' thing. Seems Jon's not as emotionless as he likes to think he is.

"_No. Of course not._"

So, someone was ripping Spooky off and being rather brutal about it. A copycat. I would have been flattered in the same situation, as long as it was intelligent copycat that is. But Jonathan, he did not seem the type to like admirers. I knew that first hand. We were nearing out destination; The home of a good friend of mine. Does a lot of work for people in mine and Jonathan's line of work. I pulled into the drive way of the rather mundane looking home. Adriana was a brilliant tailor, but a poor home decorator. I had tried so many times to help her out, but she just would not listen to reason. Some people were just beyond help. Speaking of which...

"Scarecrow, can you get Jonathan to come back?" I ask as I parked the car. He looked a bit lost.

"Where have I gone, Edward?"

I smiled wide, "Your asshole receptionist said I couldn't speak to you until April!"

Jonathan looked at me, getting that cute little twitch at the corner of his mouth. That was a sign he was annoyed; I wondered if he even realized that he does that. "What? How did I get over here?"

X-X

"You totally went catatonic on me, while you were driving!" Edward shouted, waving his hands around like a fool. "Then I had to talk to Scarecrow! But not like you 'Scarecrow', like scary 'Scarecrow'."

"Oh." I knew that had to have been what happened. I would at times black out at times of extreme emotions, a cause of being exposed to massive amounts of my fear gas. I had been told that I spoke as if I was another person. And sometimes acted so as well.

"So what are you going to do?" Nygma opened the car door and said. He stepped out and around the car, opening the door on my side.

"I will figure something out." I did not get out of the car. "I'll just wait here."

Edward grabbed me by the hand and pulled me out of the car, "Don't be stupid. This could take awhile. Besides Adriana invited us to lunch! When was the last time you ate?"

"Yesterday." I pulled my arm away from him, but I followed.

"When? _I_ didn't see you!"

I was quite for a second, "You were...indisposed." He did not respond; Well, at least not right away.

"Well, I think you need to eat something _today_." Nygma said, crossing his arms. "Riddle me this: I support all living things, yet the sight of me alone frightens all, I am always there though you can not see me, From rock bands to brigands, I am a mascot. What am I?"

"A Skeleton. I get it. I'll eat something." The place we had came to was a old Victorian-style home, white with old flaking paint. It stood among of a grove of unkempt trees that were filled with ravens. I liked it.

Stepping up on the old, creaky porch, the Riddler opened the screen door and tapped sharply on the old oak door. No answer. He did not seemed concerned however.

"Can we trust this Adriana, Edward?" I asked as he stood patiently waiting for the door to be answered.

"Oh yes, of course." He laughed. "Let's just say... She's one of us." He tapped on the door again, louder this time. "Sorry, she's old." As soon as he finished saying that, the door creaked open. A tiny little old woman stood there. She could not have been more than five feet tall. She wore a deep burgundy dress, Renaissance Italian style. She had long gray hair, braided and twisted like a wreath around her head. Her face was heavily wrinkled and sallow, yet it bore a strange brightness. She had bright blue eyes that sparkled as she saw me and Edward.

"Oh, Eddie!" She said in a high, shaky voice. Nygma smiled broadly and embraced the little old woman. She laughed like a young girl, "I'm so glad you decided to stay for lunch!" She let go of him, "Oh my, Eddie! Who is you handsome friend?"

I raised an eyebrow. The woman laughed again, "You must be Jonathan. Eddie's told me all about you. I'm Adriana." She took hold of my hand and shook it. She wore little white gloves, seemingly leather. "So you're the Scarecrow. Yeah, I can see that." She took Edward by the hand, "Come in side, Dears. I have everything ready for you. I even got a hold of that old friend of mine, the one I told you about on the phone? He got the hat done and dropped it off this morning!" She lead us into her house. Inside of the house was nowhere as unremarkable as the outside. Bolts of material, dress dummies, boxes of thread, and various other sewing supplies were strewn all over. There were dozens of old sewing machines, from treadle to electric. But everything was neatly set up, like the inside of a factory. The place smelled dusty and faintly of moth balls. She took us into the dining room. Oddly enough, she had a Japanese-style bamboo table, low to the ground with red cushions instead of chairs. On the table, there was an old English tea pot and matching cups and saucers. It was set for three. She sat at the end of the table, sitting down lady-like, sitting on her legs, hands folded in her lap. Edward flopped down to her right. I sat opposite of him on the left.

The old woman lifted the tea pot and poured it elegantly into the tea cups. Adriana smiled warmly, "I made green tea with jasmine. Sugar, dear?"

"Oh yes! Please!" Edward chirped.

"And you?"

I shook my head, "No thank you."

She nodded, "I hope you boys like Korean. I made Dwaejigogi Kimchijjigae. Edward, how have you been?"

Nygma hesitated a moment, "Oh, you know how it is. Always on the run. Riddle me this, my dear: I am a support or a defense, I have no hands but I hold up, I have not a leg but I can help one stand. What am I?"

She got a thoughtful look on her face, then her face lit up. "Oh, A cane! Speaking of which, I have one that you asked me to hold onto. Do you need it?"

"Yes, I think I do." Edward smiled. The two continue a conversation about mundane things. I looked around the dinning room and sipped my tea. All over the walls in here were pictures, in antique metal frames. Photos of all sorts of costumed villains. Oswald Cobblepot, Harvey Dent, Edward with a couple of girls in matching outfits, Pamela Isely, some others I did not recognized, and even Harley Quinn and Joker. There were several of them that had more than one photo, in different costumes.

"Admiring my work?" Adriana laughed in her sweet voice. "I made all of those! I wish batman had come to me for his outfit though. So tasteless." Edward nodded in agreement. She smiled at me, "So, who does your tailoring?"

"I do it myself."

She seemed delighted, "Oh! Wonderful. He is so talented, isn't he Eddie?"

"Yes, he is." Nygma smiled at me; that smug type of smile that says:_ Ha ha, Spooky. _I acted like I did not notice. The old woman smiled at Nygma.

"Dear, that new suit of yours is upstairs in the studio," She had a grandmotherly smile on her face. It made me uncomfortable. "Don't worry about Jonathan. I'll keep him company." Edward nodded and smirked; He jumped up and ran upstairs. Adriana turned to me; she lost all her sweet little old lady look. She looked more like a smug old business woman.

"So, Crane." She pulled out a cigarette and a long black holder. "You seem a little more grown up than Edward." She pulled out a silver lighter. It was etched with a spool of thread and a needle. She lit her cigarette and took a long drag. I relaxed a little. I was much more comfortable with her like this.

She exhaled a cloud of smoke. It had a cherry smell to it. "I heard about the girl. But that wasn't you was it?"

I took a sip of my tea, "No. But I intend to find out who it was." I set down the tea cup. "Have any leads?"

She laughed; It was dark this time. "Oh, hell no. I'm just an old woman. Well connected and wealthy, but old. I only hear from my clients, and you and Edward are the first to come calling in almost a year." She looked distant, as if lost in a memory. "I must say, I seem to be losing my customers. Well, these things happen in your line of work, don't they?"

"Yes, they do."

She smirked at me, "I know your type, Crane. You have sick tastes. Just do something for me. I'm seventy-five, I've seen people come and go." She leaned on one hand. "Edward's like a son to me. Don't let your sick little games get out of control. It's bad enough I have to worry about Harley; I don't want to have worry about Edward turning up dead too."

I was silent. She looked at me with curiosity. Taking another long drag off the cigarette, Adriana smiled, "You know what they call me? 'The Seamstress', like I am one of you. But you know," She exhaled as she spoke, then took a sip of tea. "I don't take sides. I mind my own business and sew. I think I do it because I understand."

"Understand?"

Adriana let out a chortle, almost a sound like a bird would make. "Yes. To do something you can't explain. To be locked up in Arkham. And then to be removed from the rest of the world. Trust me, even if you reform, you will always be 'Scarecrow' to everyone else. You could cure cancer and they'll still hate you." She looked sad, "You may think you're better off alone, Jonathan. But trust me, someday you'd kill for someone like Edward. If nothing more than to have someone else who's been there." She finished off her cigarette. "Yes, Edward has a big mouth. Told me _all_ about you."

I could not stop the slight smile that inched it way onto my face, no matter how I tried. "I get it now. I know who you are. Or rather, were."

The old woman looked surprised at first, but then cackled. "Oh, what took you so long?"

The strange old woman sitting before me, Adriana Book, had once been a popular pin up girl and model. Then a criminologist. Then a murder. She was married to a senator and former mayor of Gotham, a trophy wife. After years of physical and psychological abuse, she suffered a psychotic episode; It ended with her sewing her husband's eyes and lips shut and stitching his hands together while he was alive. She then hung him from the stair well. The stair well in this house. She spent fifteen years in Arkham Asylum, until she was 'cured'. But no one ever gets cured at Arkham. Well, depending on what you mean by 'cured'.

"So, what do you think of the thief trying to steal my research." I asked, coldly. The thought of someone taking my research infuriated me.

Adriana took a drink, "Well, from the what was said on the news and the police reports I have access to on the Gotham PD site. Don't look at me like that, just because I'm old doesn't mean I'm out dated. Anyway, this person is not a thief. You have got a classic copycat. This person worships you. They want to be just like you. Or are trying to impress you. However, a lot cases of copycats end with the copier thinking themselves superior and trying to kill the original. In your case, I think you'll be okay either way though. Copycat's are all about notoriety. They are trying to get attention, so they often leave clues. I would suggest looking over the autopsy report to see what kind of chemicals were used on that unfortunate youth. Or maybe the rhyme will mean something to you."

"I haven't heard it yet."

"I know you'd know it though." She smirked, "Georgie Porgie?"

"Georgie Porgie pudding and pie,

Kissed the girls and made them cry

When the boys came out to play,

Georgie Porgie ran away."

I recited it almost without thinking, "Yes." I thought a second. The old woman smiled at me. I understood. It was in fact a clue. "There is any number of things that could refer to."

"I think it's a challenge. Maybe you were the one that ran away."

"I don't care. I'm not playing any games. No one interferes with my research."

Edward came strutting down the stairs, in a new suit. Green jacket with purple pants and shirt. He had his usual green bowler hat and purple mask. "Adriana, you have out done yourself this time!" To me, it looked exactly like his last suit. He spun his cane and trotted over to rejoin us at the table. Adriana went back to her cheerful-grandmother act. I had to admit: she was clever. She was a very gifted criminologist and psychologist. She knew just to shift her behavior to suit the needs of the person she was talking with. I wondered if there was anyway to determine her true personality. A servant soon brought out lunch, Korean pork and kimchi soup. Not bad, better than any thing I had eaten in months. I ate, but was hardly aware. I was mulling over ideas in my head of how I was going to get into the Gotham City morgue. I had a few ideas, but only one that I could possibly achieve. I had to get rid of Edward first. He was becoming so much of a liability. And because of whatever reason that I found myself unable to experiment on him, he was useless.

Adriana and Edward held a conversation for a good hour. I did not listen. Soon it was late evening. We were wasting time. I needed to find that thief. After what seemed like hours, Edward bid fair well to Adriana and drug me back out to the car. I only went through the motions; My mind was else where.

I climbed into the passenger's seat, Edward into the drivers. He started rambling almost as soon as he started the car. I couldn't make myself listen to anything he was saying. I was putting together a plan. I knew what I could do. It was not the most practical and was a tad on the risky side. It would have to do. I was wasting valuable time.

"...So then Batman was all like 'No more games!' and I was like-"

"Edward."

Nygma look as though I had just punched him in the face, "Wha...What's up?"

"When we get back into Gotham, I need you to drop me off at the corner of Paris and Long."

"Why?"

"Because there is something I need to take care of by myself."

Quiet at first, Edward nodded, "Where do you want me to pick you up?"

I shook my head, "Don't bother. Just head back to Vine and Sons."

"Okay," Nygma looked a little lost, but shook it off. "So, anyway, Batman had..." He continued to talk all the way back to Gotham. We arrived at the corner I had specified. I got out of the car.

"Be careful, Spooky." Edward said, rather serious despite what he had called me. "See you later then?"

I nodded, but it was a lie. I was not going back. I turned and began walking away. I heard the car drive away. Immediately, took off my glasses and ruffled up my hair. I rolled my sleeves up an bit and untucked my shirt. It was the best I could manage at the moment for a disguise. Hopefully, there wasn't any detailed pictures of me circulating yet. I made my way down the darkening Gotham street. The water front was not a good neighborhood; If there was such a thing as a good neighborhood in Gotham. I just needed to make it to the metro station. I reached in my pocket and felt the little bit of cash in there. It was some I had taken from Edward while he was crying on the floor yesterday. It was enough for an emergency should one arise. I just needed to visit the morgue and then I could go to my safe house on Park Row. I had supplies, clothing and extra money there. It would be a better place to plot out my next move.

The Gotham metro wasn't my favorite means of transportation, but I would make do. Arriving at the Dock street station, I boarded the train. It was relatively empty, a few nervous looking people. You had to be crazy not to be on guard on the metro in Gotham. Thieves, drug addicts, and prostitutes regularly took the lines; Not to mention every other theatrical costumed villain was prone to make it a target. So there was always something to be afraid of. I think I was starting to change my mind about it...

It was a short trip to downtown. The station here was more crowded; I was a lot less likely to be noticed. I worked my way through the crowd and out of the station. I headed north. The morgue was a block further. Next to the Gotham Police Headquarters. I was definitely in enemy territory. The streets were crowded for this time of night. I was not sure what day of the week it was, but I was guessing a weekend. A lot of the people were college age or a little younger. Maybe some event was going on. Pity, if I had not of been so busy I might have been able to get a lot of data on mass hysteria tonight. This thief would have a lot to answer for.

The crowd got thicker and more colorful as I neared the Dagget Convention Center across the street. A lot of the people coming out were wearing outlandish cloths and glow-sticks. Most of the people around me smelled like pot. I would not be noticed. I pushed through the crowd. I was bothered by a few individuals: a girl who thought I was her father, a young man trying to sell me speed, and a pair of Asian twins offering me a 'good time'. There was your Gotham police force hard at work. I managed to get through to an alley next to the city morgue. I knew there was a elevator to the basement here; it used to be for the Thomas Wayne Memorial hospital drop offs, but with the alarming rise in morbidly obese persons, it wasn't hardly used because of it's small size. I found the trap door in the alley beside the dumpster. Good, that would keep me from getting noticed. The double doors of the elevator were chained together by the handles but quite loosely. I pulled them up enough to be able squeeze into the elevator shaft. I dropped down into the basement of the morgue. The elevator was in a small room, a kind of underground back door. It was a empty room with a steel door leading into the building.

I tried the door; It was unlocked. It must not have been expected for someone to get through the chain on the outer door. Staying low, I moved out into the dark hallway. This place was old; It had tile walls and floors, a pale lime color. It was a long hallway, doors to processing labs and file storage rooms line it every eight feet or so. The soft hum of the refrigeration system and computers was all I could hear. The florescent lights in the hall were off, but the light from the front office was enough for me to see. The door to the front office was propped open, but I did not see anyone around. I put my glasses back on; It would make me sharper. This was not a place to not be at my best. I moved to my left, toward the heavy double doors to the morgue itself. I stayed low and against the wall, stepping lightly. Tile floors made everything a thousand times louder. I considered taking my shoes off, but it would waste time. The morgue was not a slow business in Gotham. I had to get in and out as fast as possible.

Leaning against the heavy doors, I tried to look into the room. The small square windows were frosted; It was for 'decency'. I did not understand. The individuals here was dead; why did they care who saw them? It was only done because of a social fear of the dead. Necrophobia was one of the most wide spread fears. I decided to risk it and push the door open. The room was empty, thankfully. The large room was covered in the same tile as the hall, the halogen lights giving it a dingy feel. Three of the four walls were covered with doors of the massive refrigeration unit, painted to match the tiles. Two stainless steel tables stood in the middle of the room and a rolling table for tools, one of them occupied. A middle age man, gunshot wound to left side of the chest. Not the subject I was looking for. Next to the door, there was a normal wooden desk and chair. There were a few manilla folders on it. I sifted through them. Amie North. That was the one I needed.

I opened the file. According to the corner, the subject did not die of fright as initially speculated. Injection of some sort of chemical, similar to my fear toxin. There was extensive damage to the brain, assuming caused by the chemical. The entry site on the left arm had almost immediately began to putrefy. There was no sign of abuse, and the laceration on the subject's neck was postmortem, made by a large object. Metal, discovered scraping on the spine. The brand on the left palm of the hand was also postmortem. The body had been drain of most of the blood, presumably from the neck wound. Wrongful death.

Interesting. I needed to inspect the subject first hand. I set down the folder and checked the roster. It had this one labeled in door A-fifteen. It was right next to the desk. I pulled the rolling tool cart over near the door. Opening the refrigerator door and sliding out the slab, I paused a moment; Good, still no one around. A box of latex gloves sat on the tool cart; I put a pair on. I uncovered the subject. The report was right. No cuts, no bruising, not even any signs the subject was bound. This person had got the subject's trust. I took a steel prob off the cart and used it to inspect the neck wound. Jack Ryder had understated the extent of the cut. This was no 'slit'; Someone had tried to cut this woman's head off. All the flesh was torn away from the spine. It was a clean cut, everything severed at a perfect angle. I opened the subject's mouth; the tongue was swollen and there was a slightly green ting to the flesh there. I checked under the eyelids; No burst blood vessels. It was not suffocation, as was caused by my older versions of my fear gas. I inspected the injection site; The flesh was nearly liquified, a quarter sized lesion. It smelled of almonds and was oozing. I had never came across this problem in my research. The skull had been cut open and re-closed by the coroner, so I opened it back up. The brain of the subject was removed to slow decay of the body, but the cavity was as putrefied as the injection site. The smell was much stronger. I closed the skull, and inspected the left hand. As in the report, there was a symbol scorched on the palm of the hand. A spiral, circling out from the center of the hand.

The sound of voices caught my attention. Someone was there. I slid the slab back into the cooler and shut the door. I rearranged the tools to there ordinal positions. I rolled the cart back into place. The people speaking were getting closer, their footsteps like thunder in the quiet morgue. There was no way out of this room other than the double doors. I went to the desk and checked the roster. B-twelve was empty. I moved quickly over to the door. The voices were getting louder. I slid out the slab and laid down on it, feet first. I slid myself into the cooler and pulled the door closed. Seconds later, I heard the door open to the room.

"...telling you, she doesn't look good." A deep, older man's voice said. It sounded familiar. "Crane is a sick son-of-a-bitch."

"Jim, I don't think it was him." I felt my heart speed up. Batman. He was here. And he knew that I had not killed that woman. Which means that he was after that thief too. I had to get a move on. I would not let Batman get to that bastard first.

He and the police Commissioner sounded like they were somewhere near the desk. I could hear the slab sliding out of the refrigerator. The sharp taps of Batman's boots on the tile.

"God. I can't stand looking at cases like this," Gordan's voice had a tremble in it. "She went to Barbara's high school for god sakes. They were in color guard together."

Some metallic clicks, "Steady, Jim. I read the file. Look at this symbol on the hand." The taping on tile of hard-sole dress shoes.

"What the hell is that? Some kind of cult symbol?"

A few beeps and some clicking, like keys on a phone, " It's called _Cho Ku Rei_. It's used in _Reiki_ energy work. It's for cleansing of the aura, banishing negativity, and creating receptive environment."

Silence. Gordan spoke again, "You think this might have been a _ritual_ _killing_?"

"No, something just doesn't add up." Batman was moving around.

"Why don't you think it was Crane?" The commissioner was moving around. Both of them were moving closer. "The man is a murderer-"

Batman cut him off, "Crane may have killed people, but he's not exactly not a murderer. It's not his motivation. The people that die because of his sick schemes are incidental. He only wants to see the affects of fear on humans. Living or dying is irrelevant to him, he just wants to see how long it takes for a mind to break under the stress of fear. He's sick, Jim, but not this kind of sick."

"Tell that to the Arkham guard he killed escaping."

More footsteps, "That was probably Nygma. The splatter on the clothing found at Crane's safe house doesn't look right for the angle of the shot." They had found the boat and the safe house. I needed to cover my tracks better. Without Edward, that would not be a problem anymore.

With a scoff, Gordan spoke again, "Oh, yeah. The asylum staff said they have a weird _thing_ going on..."

"Not likely," Batman laughed. "Edward Nygma has a extreme need for attention. Just another of his games. A dangerous one. It would not surprise me if he turns up here soon." So they did not catch Edward. Pity.

There were more sounds of walking, some shuffling, and metal clinking. The commissioner's voice again, "Batman, look at her eyes." I held my breath. Was there something I had missed?

Silence. It was so quiet, I had to hold my breath to keep it from being heard. Batman spoke, his voice like thunder in the silence. "I have to stop this person."

There was the sound that sounded like some one on a phone. The Dark Knight responded, "What have you got for me, Oracle?" More of the person on the phone. "Another murder?"

Commissioner Gordan sighed, "God. As if we didn't have enough sickos on the loose..." There was the voice Batman called Oracle again.

"Another woman, same setup. Anthophobia, this one is going to be bizarre." The Knight said. I smiled; Indeed it would.

"What-a-phobia?" The police commissioner asked.

"The fear of flowers." I heard a slab sliding and a door shutting. Foot steps and the double doors swinging. I could hear the snaps of their shoes on the tile slowly fading. I pushed the door open and crawled out of the refrigerator. I needed to find some way of getting to the site of the newest murder. But first, I had to check the first girl's eyes. I had not seen anything about them in the autopsy report, nor had I noticed anything when I checked the eyelids.

I open and slid out the subject. I was still wearing the latex gloves, so I just pulled the sheet covering her back. The eyes were open. But there was nothing unusual. The eyes were not even discolored by chemicals or death. They were about the same shade as Edward's and were dilated, but no abnormalities. What had they seen that I could not?

I covered the dead woman back up and slid the slab back. No matter. I had some where I need to be. And I needed to find out where that was. Slowly, I made my way back out they way I came in. I was still a little puzzled.

What had they seen in her eyes?


	4. Running

_Chapter 4. This one is: Fucking. Epic. I hope you like it._

The streets were still crowed. It made following the Commissioner and the Batman difficult. I knew it was the best way to get to the crime scene. I just needed to get to the Bat-mobile. I also knew that this was the stupidest thing I had ever done. I hope this was worth it.

I found exactly what I was looking for a few blocks away, parked in an alley. There was no way I could get near it though. It was a rolling fortress, with a fully automated defense system. I just needed a hint on where to go. If I could eavesdrop on Batman, I might find out were the newest murder had taken place. There was so much more I could learn from a crime scene than a corpse. All though the idea made my skin crawl, I hid in a nearby dumpster. Hopefully, the Batman could show me where to go.

I shortly heard someone approaching. I hoped it was Batman; I guess it's true what they say: there was a first time for everything. Then there was the faint sound of voices.

"...But Mista Jay, he's got all kinds of traps an' stuff!"

"I know, Harley! What do you think THIS is for!"

No, no, this would not do at all! I can not believe my luck. The Joker and Harley Quinn had to show up. I can not believe they were already out of Arkham; Why do they even bother locking these people up?

"Mista Jay! Mista JAY! Mista-" There was the sound of a struggle, and Harley whining.

"Batsy!" The Joker laughed, "I thought you'd be busy with Johnny the homicidal maniac! Didn't you see what he did to that girl? My, Crane has got a little of a wild side!" There was a gun shot. More struggling. Some laughter from the Joker. Something slammed hard into the dumpster, rocking the whole thing. I rolled to the back; Luckily, this dumpster was just full of cardboard. More laughter and footsteps headed away.

Silence. Damn it. The Joker and his stupid girlfriend had ruined everything. It would be too late to by the time I found out were the murder was.

"Oracle, Get a hold of your father," Batman's voice made me jump. "Have him send some one to pick up Quinn. I have to go after Joker."

Great. I waited until I heard the Bat-mobile pull off, then jumped out of the dumpster. Harley Quinn was tied up, sitting against the dumpster.

"Oh gawd!" Her eyes widened with fright. I might have found it amusing if she had not ruined my chances to find out where that thief was. "Puh-Please Professah, don't-don't hurt me! Don't cut me up!"

"Child, I was not responsible for that." I leaned down over the girl, "I would like to know where the last murder happened. Tell me and I will cut you loose."

She looked so frightened, but she nodded, "Ovah at the Woods an' Hall apartments. Please, don't do anythin' to me!"

I took out a scalpel I has taken from the morgue. Harley bit her lip to hold back a scream.

I scoffed and cut the ropes holding Harley. "Go. Before the police show up." She got up and ran as fast as her legs would carry her, as if I was going to suddenly decide to chop her to bits. I turned and walked out of the alley, headed back to the metro. I knew exactly where that building was. It was in a more prestigious part of town. Thankfully, Park Row was on the way there. I could stop at my safe house and pick up some supplies on the way.

The crowd from the convention center had yet to clear out; Maybe my luck was starting to change. I made my way through without incident. The crowd thickened at I got to the station. I got on a crowded train. It was a short ride over to Park Row. When I left the train, not many others joined me. Park Row, also known as Crime ally, was probably the worse neighborhood in Gotham. I had to hurry; Getting off the metro at this station at this time of night was suspicious. I hurried out of the run down station and into the cold night.

It was getting well below freezing out. I rolled my sleeves back down and put my hands in my pockets. My glasses had fogged over and my breath was hanging in the air. I picked up my pace. It was late September but in Gotham, being so far to the north, this was normal weather.

I had walked six blocks when I came to an abandon hardware store. I went around the back. I kept a key to this place in Vine and sons and had grabbed it before Edward and I left. I unlocked the door and headed down into the basement. This place was not for long stays, more just a store house. It was in horrible disrepair. Carefully, I moved into a back room, to the locked trunk I had stash there. Luckily, it was there and untouched. I leaned down and put in the combination to unlock it.

In the trunk was three small cans of fear gas, an container of the powdered form of my fear toxin, a dozen and a half vials of liquid toxin, a thousand dollars in cash, a heavy, brown trench coat, a large suit case, and a Scarecrow outfit. I sighed; This one would not do in this weather. I was a rather basic one: Arm covers, mask with hood, and pants. I supposed I could just leave my sweater on. I opened the suit case and found something I had forgotten about. A smile stretched across my face. I could not believe I had forgotten it. It was so _beautiful_...

Gently lifting the object from the suit case, I nearly laughed in delight. My gauntlet. This one was an older model, it did not have the presence of my others, but that did not make it any less effective. It had a strong steel plate on the fore-arm, covering the storage for the vials of toxin. It had been made to quickly reload, although it did not as quickly as I would have hoped. There were only syringes tipping three fingers, middle, ring, and pinky. I had made it to work in. The tubing was covered by steel plates over the hand, similar to a medieval gauntlet. The whole thing was set on a leather glove, made for my right hand; I am left handed. It was clean and free of rust, looking as good as the day I had made it.

I smiled and set it the side. I quickly changed into the Scarecrow costume, excluding the mask, and put on the trench coat. I put it on over my sweater; It was just too cold. Much better. I placed my gauntlet, mask, a few vials of toxin, and a couple of cans of gas in my coat pockets inside the coat; I had modified this coat myself. The rest of the things in the trunk I packed into the suit case. I turned and headed out. To make the trip over to Broadway, where the apartments I needed to visit were, I would need to find a better way than the metro. Walking would be just fine.

Out of the building, I walked down the dark alley. It was somewhere near two in the morning. Frost was thick on everything, even settling on my glasses. It had started to snow; the tiny flakes dancing in the orange street lights. The cold mask the smell of garbage and exhaust that normally hung in the Gotham air. The city seemed almost bearable like this. I muttered to myself.

"The North wind doth blow and we shall have snow,  
>And what will poor robin do then, poor thing?<br>He'll sit in a barn and keep himself warm  
>and hide his head under his wing, poor thing."<p>

I had a sudden feeling I could not place; A kind of longing. It was rather bothersome. I do not know what was wrong with me, but I had better get over it fast. I have work to do. I shook it off. Three more block to Broadway. This area would be crawling with police. I needed to be on my guard and not distracted by stupid things.

I came up to the corner of Cherry and Broadway. I had been correct. Even at this hour, there was police cars all up and down the street. I needed to cross Broadway and get behind the building. I did not doubt there would be cops there to, but at least I could go at a better angle. Hurrying along, I crossed a block from the apartments. From here, I could see that the building next door was department store, of course, closed at this time of night. Police cars and barricades blocked off the apartments. No one in or out without an ID. No matter.

There were more apartments above the store. Apartments have fire escapes. Fire escapes that I climbed. I got onto the roof of the department store building. I set my suit case down, put on my mask and gauntlet, and left my coat next to a water tank on the roof. I loaded up my gauntlet and took a few more vials and tucked them in my sleeve, as well as a pair of gas canisters that I attached to my belt. It was time to go to work.

This building and the Woods and Hall apartments were only eight feet apart, separated by a narrow alleyway. All the fire escapes were on this side of the building. The police were guarding the alleyway, but I guessed they were not expecting someone to come from the rooftop. I moved to the edge of the roof, judging the distance to the nearest fire escape. I stepped back a good six feet and ran full-speed. I jumped off the roof, clearing the gap between the building and catching the rails of an escape with a slight clink. I looked below me; the police were still oblivious. I pulled myself up onto the metal balcony. I would have to find a window I could open without being noticed. The window on this level was lit up, so I decided to move up to the next level. I climbed up the icy escape, the metal beginning to get slick from the falling snow. On the next level, the window here was dark. And unlocked. I opened it just enough to slide in. Closing the window, I noticed this apartment was empty. Good. I would have time to figure out where I was going. I walked over to the front door. It was unlocked; Perhaps the cops had searched the building. Staying low, I opened the door. However, the sound of voices made me abruptly stop.

"...never seen something so fucked up in my life! And I was on that case where the Joker decided to go on a killing spree with candy canes. The psycho was just licking them to a point and stabbing people with 'em!"

Another voice, female, "What I like to know is how the hell he got past all the cameras here! They're going over hallway footage from all over the building. Nothing! Not even a damn blip on the film! Got the whole system down, that's why we're still here. That girl's room's on the twenty-first floor! And how did he get out again? Or why didn't the neighbors hear anything?"

Interesting. At least I did not have to worry about security cameras.

The male voice again, closer, "I don't know, Mary. My cousin was going to the University when that guy worked there. Said he'd just show up outta nowhere, like a ghost or something. That Scarecrow guy's just not...human."

"Well, whatever. You're creepin' me out. Let's just get some coffee." They walked past the door I was hiding behind. I caught a glimpse of them. They had no idea I was here. I wasted no time. I moved out of the room, keeping an eye on the cops moving away. I needed to be two floors higher. I moved over the red and black checkered carpet in the white painted hallway. It was well lit in here and almost no where to hide. The stair well was near by, thankfully. I made it into the stairs. It was dark. This will do.

I slowly moved up the concrete and metal stairs, hugging the wall. I stayed as low as I could, nearly crawling. When I got to the right floor, it would be crawling with cops. I could not be seen. And I would not. I had always seen fighting with Batman as a learning opportunity; I had picked up a few things about stealth from him. As it is said, one does well to know one's enemy.

At the door to the twenty-first floor, I listened for the police. Nothing. I opened the door and peered out. The hallway was empty. I did not like this. No matter. Too late to turn back now. I stepped cautiously out into the hall. Not sure where to look, I headed left on a guess. A good one. Sliding along the wall, I came to an open door covered with police tape. I slid under the tape into the dark room.

I nearly gasped out loud. The entire apartment was covered in vases full of flowers. Every species, color, and size of flower. How did they all get here without someone seeing? I scoffed; My nose was starting to run. I had a mild allergy to pollen, but there was a major amount of flowers here. This was a studio apartment. The whole place was visible; The lights were off but the one side of the room was all window. The orange glow of the streetlights lit the room. I moved through the jungle-like room, using the flowers as cover. The bathroom was inside a glass-brick inclosure in one corner of the apartment. I stifled a sneeze; stupid flowers.

The bathroom had a sliding frosted glass door that was already open. In this room, there were only two large vases with dark colored lilies in them. The vases sat on either side of a large corner tub. On the glass-brick walls above the tub, was another nursery rhyme, scrawled in blood and illuminated by orange light.

Goosey Goosey Gander where shall I wander,

Upstairs, downstairs and in my lady's chamber

There I met an old man who wouldn't say his prayers,

I took him by the left leg and threw him down the stairs.

Most interesting. I moved up to the tub. Of course, the police had removed the body, but there was still massive amounts of blood in the tub. So this one must have been about the same as the last. But there was something else in the tub, something that sparkled in the low light. A piece of glass. Not broken. It was about the size of a tea saucier, flat, cut into a faceted octagon. I leaned in closer. There was writing on the glass. The blood filled letters, making them stand out more.

In recognition of outstanding

academic achievement:

Jonathan Crane

I was taken back. That was an award _I_ had received. In college. How did it end up here? Who was this thief? I shook my head. No matter. I had to get out of here. I would try to make sense of this later. I turned and stepped out of the bath room. I moved slowly and low toward the door to the studio. I put both hands over my face to muffle another sneeze.

"Flowers just aren't your thing are they, Crane?"

I whipped around. Standing, silhouetted by the streetlights, was the Dark Knight himself. Damn it all to hell, this is just what I needed...

"Riddle me this: What kind of bush do you never see until it's too late?" The Riddler said, standing up out of a chair that was facing the windows. Batman stood between the two of us, looking back and forth. No, this was not good at all. Now Edward was here. How could this get any worse?

"An ambush." Batman said coolly. "So, you're working with the Riddler now, Scarecrow?"

"_I was going to ask you the same, Batman._" I had to think of something. _Fast_. "_It would not surprise me if you were the one trying to frame me for these murders._"

Batman scoffed, "I know it wasn't you, Crane. Why did you come here?"

"_To find the bastard stealing my research!_"

"Careful, Crane. People will think you've gone vigilante." The Knight jeered taking a step closer. Edward swung up his cane as if he were holding a rifle.

"Hold it right there, Great Detective." Nygma said in his most snide voice. If Batman did not kick the hell out of him, I would.

I hissed, "_I don't care. I will not tolerate someone stealing my research._"

Batman ignored the Riddler and stepped toward me, "Just let me handle this, Crane. I'll bring this murderer to justice."

"_I don't care about justice. I want punishment._"

Edward stood directly behind Batman, "Don't get any closer to him!"

The Dark Knight turned his attention to Nygma; He stepped closer to him. "What are you going to do, Riddler? If you really cared about Jonathan, you would turn yourselves in. Take him back to Arkham where he will get the help he needs."

Edward scoffed, "Are you a total drooling moron? Have you ever _been_ there? I think Jon gets _worse_ every time he goes there!"

This conversation was starting to make me ill. I needed to act while Batman was distracted. I ran at him; I threw out my right hand, catching him in the ribs with my gauntlet. I felt the needles sink in, although I was not sure they actually punctured flesh. No matter, it was only a distraction anyway, so I could get what I really needed. I continued to run pass him, toward the window. I do not know why, but I grabbed Nygma's arm with my left hand. I pulled him with me as I kicked through the twenty-first story window and jumped out into the cold, snowy Gotham air. I heard Batman yelling, but I could not make out the words. I saw his shocked expression as the two of us fell away from him. Edward clung to me like a frightened child; I instinctively wrapped my right around him, my hand on the back of his head; It had to be on instinct. Time seemed to slow as we fell. The glass and snow around us seemed to slow as if we were suspended in water. It all twinkled and danced like stars in the void. The cold air stung like needles. I could not hear anything, but I could feel Edward's heart racing, his breathing hard. He buried his face in my neck and I expected him to scream.

"Jonathan..." was all he said. That brought me back to the task at hand. I took the line launcher I had grabbed off of Batman's belt and shot it at the building across from us. It hooked on to something and jerked us hard toward the building. Then Edward did scream. It was high pitched and squealing, like a child's scream. I laughed out loud in spite of myself. We were slammed against the side of the building and brought up to a grotesque that hung off the side of the structure.

"Jonathan! What the fu-" Edward did not get to finish his complaint. I latched the line statue and used it to lower us to the street. Well, more of a controlled fall. A ten story fall. Edward started screaming again. I laughed. I stopped our fall a few feet from the pavement. We bounced on the line and then I released it from the grotesque. Nygma and myself dropped to the pavement and the line retracted. I looked around for a quick escape, trying to pry the Riddler off of me. I saw our way out, parked only a few feet away.

I clipped the line launcher to my rope-belt. I think I would be holding on to it a little longer. "_Edward, let go._" He did as he was told. I grabbed him by the arm again and jerked him along.

"Oh god, Jon! You can't be serious!" Nygma whined. "Steal the Bat-cycle? You are_ insane_!"

I ignored him and jumped on the motorcycle. I kick-started it, starting it immediately. Good, not as well defended as the car. "_Get on, or let the bat get you._" Again, he did as he was told. He threw his arms around my waist and buried his face in my back. I would have protested, but there was no time for that. Batman would not give up that easy. I pulled back on the throttle, and the bike took off at blazing speed. I had to think of where we needed to go...

"Edward." I shouted over the rush of wind and snow.

"Fuck you, Jonathan!" He screamed into my back. Never mind, I would have to think of something on my own. The cycle ripped down the road, responding to even the slightest movement of my body. I could feel every slight variation in the road, the little slips of the tires on the wet pavement, and the push of the wind. The rumble of the engine and the pull of the tires on the road, all of it, I could feel as if the bike had become part of my own body. It was exhilarating. I had never driven a motorcycle before.

"Jon, It's the Bat!" Nygma screeched. I looked into the side mirrors. The bat-mobile was following us. Of course, I knew there had to be some kind of tracking device on the bike, but I did not think he would have got his car this fast. I would have to lose him. I smiled broadly. Time to see what this thing could do.

I turned sharply at then next corner. The cycle tilted, nearly dragging my leg on the ground. Luck for us, Batman had all-weather tires on this thing. I got the bike back up strait, over compensating a little, causing it to wobble. Edward clung tighter. I was getting the hang of this. I ran the bike up on the side walk. Being three in the morning, it was empty, of course. But the bat-mobile would not be able to follow. There were cars parked all along the street, forming a wall between us and the bat. I could not out run him, though. I needed to find a way to distract him again. Of course, that would be perfect.

I gripped the hand breaks hard. The cycle slid and bucked in protest, tilting us sideways. I released the breaks before the bike fell on it's side, turning us completely around. We nearly came to a stop. I pulled the throttle all the way back. The cycle buck up into a wheelee as it moved forward. It bounced roughly back onto two wheels; I smiled wide beneath my mask. We shot passed the bat-mobile, going the opposite direction. As the bike ripped down the side walk, I could hear the screech of tires. Batman was turning around. I just needed to get over to Cherry; It would take us all the way back to downtown. Turned sharply back onto Broadway. The police there were ready for us. Cars barricaded the road and side walk. Officers in riot gear stood ready. But they would not stop me. I could already see a hole in there defense. An expensive sports car, possibly a Ferrari, sat to one side of the street. I headed at top speed for the car. The police began to scatter when they realized I was not going to stop. As the bike came close to the wedge-like car, I pulled back as sharp and hard as I could, popping the front up just enough to get traction on the car. I drove over the car, using it as a ramp. For a moment the motorcycle was air born, then it came down on top of a cop car. The bike's spiked tires ripping through the metal as I continued at insane speeds down Broadway. I swerved and weaved the cycle through the mess of cop cars on the street. Cherry was on the next right.

The Bat-mobile pulled out of a nearby alley, screeching along side Edward and myself. Batman looked over and glared. I do not know what possessed me to do so, maybe it was the thrill of riding the bike or the excitement of the chase, but I was feeling rather uppity. I threw out my left hand and flipped Batman 'the bird'. I felt rather stupid afterward; that was more like something Edward would do. No matter. I sharply turned as we arrived at the corner of Broadway and Cherry, tilting the bike to the extreme. I barely recovered, but it saved some time. Batman's car did not have that kind of maneuverability. He lost a few seconds on us as he turned. Perfect. I did not want him to lose us, just for him to fall a little behind.

I needed to hurry. The cold and the wind were taking there toll; I was not dressed to ride a bike in this weather. I had lost feeling in my legs, my hands burned from the chill of the wind, and the cold air was burning my lungs. The snow had soaked my clothing and the wind had frozen it. Not to mention if I crashed, both Edward and I would be torn apart. We blazed past Park Row, and two police cars joined the chase. How annoying.

"Edward!" I had to scream to be heard over the wind. "Grab the canister off my belt!"

I could feel Nygma groping at my hips, too scared to sit up and look. He eventually found a can of fear gas.

"Throw it!"

Ever obedient, Edward tossed the can behind us, in the general direction of the cop cars. It crashed through the wind shield of one of them, causing it to swerve and hit the second. Batman, however, was unaffected. Not that it mattered. We were seconds away from the still quite busy convention center. We tore up the road, toward the barricaded off street. I held the bike at full throttle.

"JON!" Edward screamed into my ear. He had muster up the courage to look over my shoulder. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Distraction!" I yelled back.

I grabbed the line launcher, "Hold on!" I clicked the launcher, shooting it toward the metro line passing over the street. It caught. The two of us were ripped off of the cycle, which kept moving and slammed through the barricades and into the crowd. It slid on it's side, crashing into the build across the street, exploding. I pulled myself up onto the metro overpass, Edward clinging to me like a leech. I drug him along as I ran to the other side of the bridge. I took the remaining canister off my belt, opened and threw it as hard as I could manage. It landed in the middle of the already panicking crowd. Perfect.

"God damn it, Jon." Nygma turned loose of me and fell to his knees. "What the hell was all that?"

"That was us escaping the Batman."

The Riddler was trying to catch his breath, "Spooky, that was the most stup- Oh! You have a huge piece of glass sticking out of your leg!"

I looked down. He was right; there was a six inch wide and half-inch think chunk of glass stuck in my right calf. It only stood up about an inch above the flesh, but it had to be lodge in pretty deep to still be there. Well, this posed a problem. It was numb, which I had initially assumed was from the cold. It was also bleeding. A lot.

"Here," Edward came over and threw an arm around my shoulder. "Let's get out of sight. I'll help you."

I could not have fought him if I wanted to. Between the loss of blood and the cold, I had nothing left. The adrenalin of the ride had been the only thing keeping me going. Edward took off his coat and wrapped it around my shoulders; Apparently, he had not gotten near as much of the snow as I had. The coat was warm and dry. It only helped a little, however. Every step was extremely painful. I could not feel my hands; I was sure that I would loose some of my fingers. I held them to my sides to try and warm them up. It was no help; my cloths were covered in ice. Damn it all.

Edward stopped, "I know you're going to torture me for this, but-" He grabbed me and lifted me up, an arm around my shoulders and the other under my legs, "At least you'll be alive to torture me." He began to run, holding me close to his chest. He headed down the metro tracks. I hoped the train did not come down this way anytime soon. Down the track a few hundred feet, was an outside platform. We could get to street level from there. I could feel the glass in my leg grinding as Nygma ran. This would not be an easy fix.

I realized that I had blacked out a bit when Edward sat me down next to a car. I do not have a clue how, but he had managed to hang on to his cane through that whole mess. He used on of the many gadgets on it to unlock the car. He lifted me back up, opened the door, and then put me in the passenger's seat. Slamming the door, Nygma ran around to the driver's side and got in. He used the same little tool he had used to break in to start the car. I blacked out again; Now we were on the highway, getting off on an exit toward Metropolis. Edward had laid the seat I was in all the way back, so that I was laying down. He had also removed my wet cloths. I was wearing his shirt, and my legs were covered with his jacket. My injured leg was wrapped, although the glass was not removed.

"Edward?"

He did not look at me, just put a hand on my shoulder, "Hang in there, okay?" I wanted to smack him, but I could not move enough to do so. It was hot in the car now; I still felt rather cold. The only reason I could tell it was hot was that Edward had his window down and was sweating, even though he was now shirtless.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe."

I managed to sit up. "Where?"

"Ontario."

"No." I said, starting to feel more aware. "I have to take care of this."

Edward looked at me, then back to the road. "God. Jon, what is it going to take? I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, but if you want to kill yourself there are easier ways to do it! This is the third time this week I've had to save your life! We got a killer framing you, so the cops are all over anything that has to do with you. You probably seriously pissed of the Bat from that little stunt. And you know what else, I lost my _hat_!" Edward took a deep breath. He was quiet a second. "Please, Jonathan, I don't want to see you get killed."

I was silent. It was true; He had saved my life. Again. But my work was my life. And someone was out there taking it. Right now. And mocking me for it as well. I doubt Edward could comprehend that. He was too deep in this delusion.

"I hate you, Edward."

He laughed, "I know, Spooky." He took a deep breath. "Alright. No Ontario then. I own a house just a few miles from here. Well, Michele Von Derick II owns it. Inherited from his grandfather and-" He went on with a ridiculously over embellished made up history of this house. Then he kept talking. And just kept on talking. I leaned back in the seat again, trying to relax. I realized that I had grown quite accustom to ignoring everything Edward had to say. I found it almost comforting, like people who need the hum of a fan to sleep.

X-X

I awoke with a jerk. Edward was trying to move me out of the car. A sharp pain shot through my leg. It was swollen and the glass was grinding every time I moved. I was getting really sick of this.

"Sorry, Jonathan."

I pushed him away. I managed to stand, supporting myself on the car.

"Here, use my cane." Edward handed me his Riddler cane. I took it and leaned on it. As I stepped out of the car, I noticed we were in a garage. It was over-stocked with tools and had another car in it. An old remodeled screaming-purple Charger. Nygma did love to waste money.

"Edward, do have any sort of medical supplies?"

He nodded, "Yeah, come on. We can take care of your leg in the basement." I followed Edward into a door leading from the garage. Apparently, the garage itself was underground. We came right into the basement. The place was set up like a bar. It had tile floors, purple and green checkered. Along the one wall, was a bar with a black marble counter top and purple stools setting in front of it. The room was spacious, only a pool table and a few bright green lounge chairs stood in it. The walls were painted lime green, with black question marks all over them. It was very tacky.

Edward sighed; He helped me over to and up on the pool table. "Just stay here, Jon. I'll grab the stuff." He left via a door that was next to the bar. I started to unwrap my wound. I sighed; Nygma had wrapped it with the arm covers of my costume. He had better be able to replace those. I had my doubts, seeing the kind of garbage he wasted his money on.

I grimaced. My calf was swollen and purple. The wound was still bleeding and looked like it might be infected. Great. This had just not been my week. I thought about pulling the glass out myself. No, that was not a good idea. Pulling at this angle would do more harm than good. I would have to wait.

Edward came back in carrying a tub of things. He brought them over to the pool table and set them down next to me, "This should be anything you might need." He pulled out a medicine bottle. "Here. Take one." he handed me the bottle. Vicodin.

I handed it back and shook my head, "No. Not until I've taken care of this."

Reluctantly taking back the bottle, Edward looked at me, looking lost as usual. "Okay."

Inspecting the tub of supplies, I had everything I would need. Gauze, a bottle of clean water, a box of gloves, bandages, alcohol, some anti-biotic cream, bandage scissors, even silk threat and curved upholstery needles. I should have guess Nygma would have these kind of things around. You did not deal with Batman and not have proper medical supplies.

"Alright Edward, this is how this is going to work," I said to him as I put a pair of gloves on. "Put on a pair of gloves; I need you to pull the glass out of my leg. Listen to me: Make sure you pull it strait out. Do _not_ wiggle it out."

Despite looking rather pale, Edward put on a pair of gloves. He took hold of the glass at either end.

"Ready?" He had a little bit of a tremble to his voice.

"Just do it, Edward."

Breathing in, he jerked the glass strait back, pulling out. Blood gushed out of my leg and all over the pool table. I bit my lip and flinched. That had hurt like hell. Edward sat down the glass. I took the water bottle and poured it over the wound, cleaning it out.

"What now?" Nygma said.

"Now, you go and get me some ice. Ice packs, cubes, anything frozen will do. I have got to get the swelling down so I can stitch this up."

"You're going to do it?" Despite the fact that was a question, he look relieved.

"Yes."

Edward left again. I turned my attention to the wound. It was a good six inches long and an about an inch deep. Luckily, nothing vital had been severed. And it was relatively clean. The glass had kept everything out of the wound. I poured more water into it; I would not clean it with anything else. Any strong disinfectants would only irritate the wound further, making it even harder to stitch. I took the tube of anti-biotic cream and squeezed it into the gash. I used the entire tube.

Nygma returned, carrying a large bag of ice. Without a word he walked over and poured it all out on my leg. I looked at him. Just looked. He sighed and shook his head.

"You've already ruined my ten-thousand dollar pool table by bleeding all over it," Edward shrugged. "So what's it matter if it gets a little wet?"

"You're the one that put me up here, Edward."

"Yeah, yeah." He scoffed. "How long you think this is going to take?"

I raise and eyebrow, "Not really sure. About an hour. Why?"

"Ah, no reason." He said; Edward was lying. There was something he was not saying. "Riddle me this: I am part of every man, All feel my grip, I can be a savior or a downfall. The weak succumb to me and the strong work along side me. What am I?"

"Fear. What's on your mind, Edward?"

"Jon," He smiled. "I was thinking, on account of you ruining my pool table, maybe we could set up a lab down here. It's not like I entertain all that much anyway. I could get you some supplies and equipment." Now he was trying to distract me. Something was up and he did not want me to know what it was.

"Edward."

As I well knew, Nygma was not stupid. He looked at me, frustrated. "You're going to leave again. I know that. I won't stop you. But, _please_, at least wait until you are better. I don't want anything to happen to you Jonathan."

This was getting ridiculous. Edward was getting on my nerves. His delusion was not wearing away as I initially believe it would. Unfortunately, I think that was because of my actions. I shuffled my leg out of the ice. It was a little swollen still, but it was down enough to stitch it shut. I took a needle and threaded it. I opened the alcohol and poured it over the needle and silk thread.

"Edward, I need you to put some more gloves on. I want you to hold the wound shut so I can stitch it."

I could tell he was not thrilled by the idea, but he was obedient as ever. He gingerly took hold of my leg and held the edges of the gash closed, "Just hurry up, okay?"

I did not respond to his plea. I just went right to work. My leg was numb now and could hardly feel the stick of the curved needle. It's small gauge allowed me to work quickly with the needle. I threaded and tied each stitch with ease, only slowed by Edward having to move his hands. He, oddly enough, did not speak. He watched me stitch the wound, gagging every so often. I found it so strange that people were often bothered by the sight of blood or gore. I ignored Nygma's discontent and continued working on my leg.

"So, what are you going to do?" the Riddler said after a long silence. I was intrigued; He had said 'you' not 'we'.

I started a stitch, "Well, first I would like some cloths. I can not very well go anywhere wearing nothing but my boxers and your shirt." I tied the stitch off. "Then we are going to go and talk to Adriana."

Looking at me in a rather bewildered manner, Edward shrugged, "Okay, but you forgot something in between the two."

"And that would be?" I started another stitch. I was up to twelve and had a few inches to go.

"You've lost a lot of blood. Not to mention you are practically emaciated. You're going to eat something."

"No. No time." Up to fifteen now. Almost done.

Edward squeezed hard on my leg. I dropped the needle and gasped. He grinned quite evilly; I was a tad surprised by his behavior. "No drugs to threaten me with now, Jonathan. You'll do as I say." he squeezed harder. I gritted my teeth. Nygma would regret this. I would make sure of it.

"Now," He smiled smugly. "What do you want for breakfast?"

I glared. "Kimchi."

"Okay, and?"

"That's all."

He squeezed my leg again. I could not stop myself from letting out a gasp. Edward was going to pay. Smiling still, he spoke again, "What else?"

I bit my lip; Fine, I would play for now. "Some thing with beef and noodles sounds good."

Edward smiled. He handed me back the needle and thread. "Good. But first things first."

I took back the needle and went back to finishing my leg. I would make him suffer. Edward would not get away with this. But I had a few other things to take care of first.


	5. Arguments

_I do not own any music or such mentioned in this. Or the song Shoots and Ladders, Korn does. But it's totally Scarecrow's song, so I had to use a little of the lyrics. I try to avoid using actual bands and songs, I think it kind sounds cheesy, but I broke my own rule. Oh well._

X-X

I had played along with Edward's game. I ate. I got dressed in the tacky cloths he had picked out for me; A burgundy jacket and matching pants with a black shirt. I even left him alone while he slept. I would let him have his fun. Let him think he was in control. Then, he would know fear.

The two of us were riding in the Charger from Edward's garage. He was driving. Ever since I had blacked out behind the wheel, he would not let me drive. It scared him too much; That made me want to drive all the more. But I would let it go for now. I needed him. For now.

"Jonathan, why do you want to see Adriana?" He just had to start talking. "I mean, you make your own outfits."

"I don't need an outfit." I took off my glasses and cleaned them on the jacket I was wearing. "I need information. She has access to the policed data base."

"Oh." Edward was only quiet a second. "Jon, why don't you let it go? I mean, the bat's after this copycat, why not just let him handle it?"

I looked over at him. I do not know what sort of expression I had on my face, but it obviously frightened him. Good. "_I don't even think so._"

Nygma shut up. He focused nervously on the road. I put my glasses back on. This was getting to be a real problem. Had it not been for my injury, I would already be rid of him. I needed to focus now. At the scene of the murder, there had been that award I had received in college. I had got many awards; I needed to remember which one that was. It may hold a clue of some kind. Maybe a hint on how the thief had gotten a hold of it. It had been so unremarkable. There was not much to go on. Perhaps Adriana could help; that is why I had given her a phone call this morning.

"Jon," Edward could just not be quiet; his obsessive compulsiveness would not allow it. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

He looked over at me, then back to the road. He did that again. "Um, for, you know, torturing you."

I raised an eyebrow. That was rather interesting. I thought maybe he was starting to get over his delusion of infatuation, therefor being able to hurt me. However, it seems I was mistaken. I supposed that was fine; It would make it all the more interesting when I paid him back.

The car pulled up into the drive way of Adriana's home. She was outside, sitting at a little cast-iron table, drinking tea and typing on a lap-top computer. Despite the fact it had been snowing last night, it was rather warm today. She was wearing a plan black dress with a black sun hat. The place was still covered with ravens, and she threw them bread crumbs. I felt rather safe around this woman. I think that's what she aims for.

Edward stopped and turned off the car. I got out immediately; Adriana waved. I headed over to the old woman, the ravens on in the yard only stepping out of my way. As Edward followed, however, they took to flight. I scoffed; Why did he have to terrorize those poor birds?

"Oh, I so glad you came back." Adriana said, in her personality she used for me. Apparently, I was more important than Nygma today. "I've got everything I could pull up on those young ladies."

"Thank you." I sat in the chair next to her. Edward hurried along and sat in the chair next to me, looking rather nervously at all the ravens about. I felt even better.

Adriana was smoking another of those cherry-flavored cigarettes. She took a long drag and then focused on the computer, "Okay. This is what we got for starters. Two girls, about the same age, both murdered. Poisoned."

I tapped my fingers on the table, "What can you tell me about the chemical used?"

She typed a little on the computer, browsed, and then smiled, "Something very interesting. It's base is similar to your toxin with a variation."

"Variation?"

"Yes," She sipped her tea. A raven landed on the table, picking at a bowl of bread crumbs. It eyed me curiously. Another joined it. The old woman nodded, "It seems the first girl was poisoned with a toxin mixed with the venom of a brown recluse spider."

"Yes, that would explain the rot." One of the ravens from the table jumped onto my shoulder, perching comfortably. Three more landed on the table.

Adriana covered her tea cup with the saucer. "Yes. The second was poisoned with a compound similar to sweet-peas. Added to the toxin, of course."

"So this freak is literally killing these girls with their fears?" Edward said, trying to shoo away the ravens on the table. He looked so unsettled by the birds; I would have to remember that.

"It would seem so." I said. The bird on my shoulder preened my hair; another landed on my other shoulder. "Edward, don't bother the ravens."

"Another thing I find most intriguing," Adriana finished off her cigarette. She took out another and placed it in her holder. "The girls look very much alike. Both rather tall, around six foot. Red hair and green eyes. Both of them rather thin build."

I did not know how that was relevant at all, but I could not afford to miss any details. I looked down at the table; there were at least ten ravens on it now. I set my hand on the table. A bird jumped up on my arm. It watched me; it's dark eyes so full of curiosity.

I smiled at the bird, "Did they find anything that belonged to me at the first crime scene? Like the plaque at the second site?"

She scrolled through on the computer, "Yes, it seems there was." She turned around the computer and showed me. There was a metallic object in a pool of blood. I clicked on the computer's touch pad, zooming in. It was my identification badge from when I worked at Arkham. I had lost that one time when I was arrested . That means that who ever this thief was had access to police storage. Interesting.

Adriana turned the computer back around. She shooed a few ravens off of the table. "You know something, Crane? You're not a very good scarecrow."

The ravens the old woman shooed landed on me. Edward flinched away. I smiled, "I don't know what to tell you. Did the second girl have a brand on her hand?"

"Let me see," Adriana browsed more. "Yes. A spiral from the center of the hand outwards; Left hand."

Edward had moved around to see what Adriana was looking at. "That is weird."

"Probably a signature." Adriana lit her second cigarette. "And probably how your going to catch his person."

"Batman said it was Japanese."

Edward looked at me in disbelieve, "When did you talk to Batman?"

"I didn't." I shifted in my chair a bit; As if they could sense my discontent, the ravens perched on me flew off. They did not go far, just landing in the grass around the table.

Adriana shook her head, "Not exactly. That symbol had been used by almost every culture in the world. And has many different meaning. On top of that, it's been used in many modern things. It could be from anywhere. What we need is something that ties it to the dead girls first."

"You mean like something they have in common with the killer, of course." Nygma said, shooing a raven way from his side of the table.

"Yes, somewhere he might have seen them," Adriana said, looking rather thoughtful. "Or how he go their trust."

"What makes you thing it's a guy?" Edward laughed, bothering the poor ravens again. "I'm betting it's a woman!"

Adriana took a drag of the cigarette and nodded, "I suppose that is a possibility, but female serial killers are almost unheard of. Killers of this type also tend to hunt the opposite sex. And copycats tend to be of the same sex. So that's not the wisest bet to make, Eddie."

Ever needing to be right all the time, Edward leaned back in the chair, "I still think it's a woman."

"It doesn't matter." I said, leaning back in my chair. A raven landed on my lap. "I will not tolerate this."

Edward scoffed, "You're going to get lice from those ugly birds."

"Hasn't happened yet."

Adriana smiled smugly, "Well, not that I don't think you two are just as cute as a couple as I have ever seen, but I think it's time you boys were moving on."

I was shocked that she would say anything like that; Edward, on the other hand, was tickled to death. He smiled, "What's wrong, my dear?"

"The two of you riding Batman's motorcycle all over Gotham last night is plastered all across the news." She smiled, puffing on her cigarette. "Not good for business having you two here."

Sighing, Nygma stood up and took Adriana's hand, "I suppose that's right, my sweet. Farewell until we next meet."

She laughed, "Oh Eddie!"

I shooed the raven off my lap and stood up. Edward grabbed my hand and jerked me along behind him. "Come on, Spooky." He was going to suffer. Nygma dragged me along; I looked back, and Adriana was smiling, waving, and laughing. I scoffed; To think someone like her was contributing to the Riddler's delusions. One would think she would know better.

I got back into Edward's ugly car. He jumped through the window on his side, like he was getting in a race car. He smiled at me; Of course, he was in a good mood. He had gotten attention for acting out. And it was at my expense. Not that it mattered. He was going to get his.

The drive back to Edward's house was rather uneventful. It seemed that because his car was gaudy and attention grabbing, it was an effective cover. Most people seemed too distracted by the car to notice the passengers. I supposed that was Nygma's intention all along. I hope the same held true for his house. The place was a small mansion, six bedrooms, four bathrooms, the four car garage and full basement. The bar had only been a small part of it; There was entire apartment down there. It must have cost a small fortune just for up keep. On top of that, he had the power and water on at all times, to keep up the appearance that someone lived there. It was such a waste.

We arrived back at the Riddler's house, after a hour ride with Edward talking the entire time. I got out of the car and went into the basement of the house. I walked through the bar area, Nygma following. He was still running his mouth. I ignored him. The next room over was a living room area of the basement apartment. It was not as flamboyant as the last room, being in subtle shades of green. It was still more green than I cared for. The room was smaller, only having an armchair and a small sofa. A coffee table sat in the middle of the room and there was an entertainment center across from the couch, against the wall. Oak, doors covering whatever was inside. I laid back on the sofa, taking the weight off of my injured leg. It would take some time before I would be able to do anything strenuous.

Edward flopped roughly in the armchair. "So tell me: What are we doing next?"

"I'm going to relax on this couch. I haven't the slightest idea what you are going to do."

Growing impatient, Nygma scoffed. He leaned back and put his feet up on the coffee table, "You know what I meant. Riddle me this, All though I am pointless, I am a common sight. I am made of four and not one a right. What am I?"

"Impressive making this one rhyme." I took off the jacket I was wearing and tossed it over on the coffee table. "A circle. Do you think we are going circles, Edward?"

"Yes, Jon. I do."

I scowled at him, "Of course. Because you won't give up on this delusion of yours! I-" Before I knew what happened, Edward was on me. Literally. He had me pinned, sitting on me; He held my arms down and was face to face with me.

"Jonathan." He breathed, barely making a sound. I tensed up; I had never been so angry in years. I wanted to kill him. He looked thrilled; More so than that: Aroused. His face was flushed and his breathing hard. He was just begging for me to kill him.

"Edwar-" I did not get to finish. He put his mouth to mine, shoving his tongue in. I did not fight him; I did not react. I just sat there. He would not get anything from me. I would not play his stupid game. He soon stopped, looking not disappointed, but ashamed. Nygma let go of me and crawled off. I sat up, glaring at him. He got up and started to walk away.

"I'm going upstairs. My back hurts. I'm going to go take a bath." He grumbled, heading up the stairs. I said nothing in response. I was too angry to speak. I was so tired of his constant need for attention. Of the fact that when he got bored at one level, he would just jump it up to the next extreme. I was getting sick of his whining and his complaining. I was sick of him.

?-?

I was wrong.

I sat on the edge of the huge tub in the master bathroom, looking into the rising water. After all that had happened, after the way I had saved his life over and over, and how he had save mine. I figured, he was just too proud. That if it came down to it, he would not resist. But I had been wrong.

The tub was about half full now. I did not really care for taking baths; I just lied to Jonathan. So it was true; I was just a lying stupid idiot...

No, it couldn't be! I could not be wrong! I am a genius; Not just a genius, The Genius! I could not have been wrong at all. I just did not try hard enough. I just needed to put more time and effort into this. Jonathan was like a puzzle box. A dangerous puzzle box full of poison, but it was all the same. I just need to try a different method. He was not impressed by lavish gifts and wealth. Or honeyed-words and charm. No, of course not. Jon was just too intelligent for that sort of garbage. I had to impress him some other way. And get him to stop calling me delusional.

The tub was nearly full now. I turned off the water. I threw off my cloths and got in. I was rather nice to relax in a bath. I sunk down in the water and closed my eyes. I would solve this; Then it hit me. I knew how I could impress Jonathan. I would _solve_ this mystery with his copycat. If I could catch the copycat, I knew he would be delighted with me. After all, this seemed to be what was putting him in such a bad mood.

I smiled to myself, eyes still closed. When this mess was over, I could get back to my old game. And of course, I would have Jon there with me. I smiled; In February there was a concert scheduled, a pop star, Justin something-or-other. It would be rather amusing to see the effects of Jon's fear gas on a bunch of teenage groupies. Oh, and I had a wonderful riddle lined up for that. I don't know if it could turn a profit, but it would be hilarious all the same. It would be a great distraction while we hit something else. Maybe a bank, or-

Before I knew what had even happened, I was under the water. At first I thought I had just slid down, but I could not get up. Something was holding me down. An icy, skeletal hand was around my throat. I struggled, trying to get above the surface. I could not even get a leg under me. I frantically grabbed at the side of the tub, trying to pull myself up out of the water. No use; I clawed at the hand around my neck. There was something on the hand, in the skin. Stitches. I suddenly realized, with great horror, it was _Jonathan's_ hand.

I was jerked hard out of the water. I gasped deeply. Jonathan was leaning over me, sneering. He had that look about him, that Scarecrow look. I went to speak, but he shoved me back under. I grabbed at his hand, pulling on the stitches. I managed to rip a few out, but it did nothing. I kick and tried to jerk free from his grasp, but he was too strong. I tried to grab at his body, reaching for his face. His arm was too long for me to reach. I was starting to see spots; I did not know how much longer I could last.

Jonathan jerked me up out of the water again, "_Edward, I do believe we have quite a session a head of us_."

I gasped and held in a deep breath. He shoved me back under the water. I had to think of something. He was trying to kill me. Wait, no. No, he wasn't. He was trying to scare the hell out of me. I just had to calm down and he would stop. I relaxed. I did not fight him. He held me under, still smirking. Blood ran from the back of his hand, tinting the water. He started down at me still, through his own blood. I did not move; It was hard to keep my cool. I was not going to be able to hold my breath much longer. I could feel panic gripping me. I was fighting so hard to keep my body from inhaling on it's own. God, Jon don't kill me.

He jerked me up out of the water again, "_How long do you think you can keep this up?_"

Not answering that, Jon. I took another breath. I knew better than to try and talk. He was waiting for that, so he could shove me under as I opened my mouth. He shoved me under again. But it seemed Jonathan was ready for me to resist. He pulled out a scalpel. For fuck sake, where did he get that? I did not sit still for this. I thrashed with all my might. I was not going to lay here and let him cut me up. This time, he did not seem ready for me to struggle. I grabbed his arm and rolled him over into the tub. I got him under the water. I managed to get both hands around his scrawny neck. I held him down underwater, sitting on him. He grabbed my wrists but did not struggle. He looked up at me through the water, with those cold blue eyes of his. Those beautiful eyes. There was no fear in them, only curiosity. He just seemed to say: _What are you going to do now, Edward?_

I pulled him up out of the water. He gasped and I met his mouth to mine. I kissed him again. I did not care if he just sat there like a dead fish; I wanted this and meant to have it. I held one hand tight to the back of his neck and place the other on the side of his face. The taste of him was odd; he tasted kind of metallic, almost familiar taste that I could not quite put my finger on. I moved my hand from the side of his face through his hair; it felt smooth, soft, and light, like feathers. Then, to my infinite surprise, he began kissing me back. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in tight, his wet clothing making a funny squishing sound. Then he pulled us both under the water. He did not let me go, nor did he pull his mouth from mine. He seemed just fine with idea of drowning us both. I, on the other hand, was not. I jerked the both of us out of the water. I reached over and unplugged the tub, just to be safe. Jonathan pulled away only long enough to catch his breath. Then he shoved his tongue back down my throat. His hands traveled all over my body; Groping and feeling, stroking and caressing. And he did so quite roughly.

Not that I was complaining, but I was rather confused. First, he was trying to kill me, then was all over me. I did not get it. Unless, I realized, that the whole drowning thing was just some sort of sick fore play for Jon. I could not help but feel a sense of accomplishment. I had gotten to him earlier; He just needed a little something to get him going. Jon biting my neck brought me out of my thoughts. He growled something at me, although I could not understand. I thought it might have been something about staying focused. I smiled and pulled at the buttons on his shirt. Forget it; I jerked hard at either sided and ripped it open, sending the buttons flying every where. So much for that hundred dollar silk shirt. I slid it down off his bony shoulders. He was so thin; His bones shown under his pale skin. His spine stuck out and his shoulder blades stuck up, his ribs visible, almost like he had no skin at all. I ran my hands down his back. His skin was dry and cold even after being soaked in hot water. Jonathan bit me again; I knew that one would leave a mark. Bastard was doing it on purpose. I smirked. I reached down and began working on getting him out of his pants. He grabbed my hands and shoved me down, coming down on top of me. By this time the tub was empty, lucky for me.

Jonathan pulled himself as tight to me as he could manage. He put a hand on either side of my face and looked me in the eyes, "Edward, I hate you."

X-X

I could not believe this.

Edward was lying there, asleep. He was wrapped up in the blankets on the bed in the master bedroom. He was quite exhausted. Of course he was. The thought made my skin crawl. And what was worse, I had went along with this. I let this happen, even helped it along. And for what? The more carnal side of myself? To fulfill a more baser need? No, if only I could have written it off so easily. I did this because I wanted to. I wanted him. So I took him. It was as simple as that.

I had gotten dressed, finding something among the ridiculous amounts of clothing Edward had. A black sweater and dark jeans. I sat on the edge of the bed, looking back over my shoulder at Nygma. I should have killed him back in Arkham. I shook my head and got up. I have more important things to do. I wasted enough time playing around with Edward as it is. I headed out of the room, and back downstairs to the basement. I needed to re-stitch my hand, and all the medical supplies were still down there.

Back in the bar room in the basement, the medical things were in the tub setting on the marble bar. I dug out the thread, needles, and alcohol. This would not be as easy as my leg; my hand was not numb like my calf had been. And I did not have the time to take anything to numb it. I had been asleep myself and there was no telling how long it would be until Edward woke up. If he did, I would not be leaving without him. Despite what he had said, I knew he would put up a fight if I tried. This was getting to be a real bother. I suppose this is what I got for indulging in this foolishness.

Inspecting my hand, I guessed that I would only need three stitches. That was good. I would be doing this with my right hand. I took out the bandage tape; Using a small piece, I closed the wound on my hand. I took the smallest needle and threaded it, then pouring alcohol on it. I took a deep breath; I stuck the curved needle into the back of my hand. I gritted my teeth; It burned and stung as I pulled the threat through. I shuffled through the tub, finding the bandage scissors. I tied off the first stitch and cut the thread; The next two should not be as hard. My hand was starting to numb from the shock. I peeled back the tape on the wound just enough to start the next stitch. I was wrong; this one hurt worse. I tied that one and took the tape off of my hand. I went right to the last stitch. It hurt just as much as the others. I wrapped my hand in gauze and taped it. Then I turned my attention to my right leg. Removing the bandage, I flinched. It was still rather sore and getting the bandages wet had not helped. I inspected the wound. There was some swelling and drainage, but nothing to worry about yet. I put fresh dressing on it. It still hurt to walk on it. I would just have to work through it; It was my own fault.

I left the room and went into the garage. The car Nygma had stolen was still in there. It was plain white, nothing remarkable about it. Edward had obviously changed the license plates on it; the old plates laying on the ground, new ones placed on it. They read AMZING. Amazing. Of course, Edward would put something so stupid on there. I was tempted to take his car instead and run it off a bridge into the Gotham river. I shook my head; I was wasting more time. I opened the door to the garage; it was daylight outside. I had not bothered to check the time, not that it mattered. I found a screwdriver on the work bench in the garage. I got in the stolen car. Thankfully, it was old enough for this trick to work. I took the screwdriver and popped the key hole off of the ignition. I stuck the screwdriver in the open socket and turned it. The car started.

Throwing the car into reverse, I pulled out of the garage as fast as the car would go. I over shot the drive-way and ran into the yard, by a car-length. I threw the car into drive and floored it. The car ripped up the yard and flung gravel from the drive way. I turned the wheel sharply, but not quite enough. I clipped the garage, tearing a chunk out of the wall. Oh well. I straightened out the car and headed toward the highway. I looked down at the radio. The clock on it said one-thirty A.M. Obviously it was not correct. I flipped on the radio; Maybe I could catch the time on there.

Some thrash metal came on. I did not mind it. I drove down the highway. I was not sure what I was going to do or where I needed to go next. I sighed; I should have waited until I had a plan. Damn it, I wasting more time. Taking a deep breath, I organized my thoughts. I needed to find away into the police storage. In Gotham, due to all the extreme criminals, older case evidence and confiscated property was kept in a storage complex near Blackgate prison. Nothing this week had been easy, why should this be?

I needed to get into that facility and get to my storage unit. Maybe I could find a clue to how that thief had gotten into the unit. And get a hold of something useful in the process. I needed to take care of this fast. This mess was allowed to go too far as it was.

"..interrupt this broadcast to bring breaking news. The murder in the high-class New Venice condominiums has been confirmed to be the third victim in a series of murders that police believe are being perpetrated by the criminal know as the 'Scarecrow'. The young woman was discovered this morning by her old brother, kill in the same manner..."

I growled, a gut reaction. This was ridiculous. I could not take this. I floored the car; it climbed to eighty. I could feel my pulse racing. I had to get this taken care of. So much time I could have used for research and study, working with patients, all gone because of this thief. I would find this bastard and rip his heart from his chest. I would-

The air-horn of a semi brought me back from my rage. I swerved over, just barely missing the truck. I took a few deep breaths. I had to calm down. I slowed back down to the speed limit. It would not help my situation to be killed.

"Here comes a Chopper to Chop off your Head

Chip chop chip chop - the Last Man's Dead."

Oh and I would come for this bastard. I had several weapons, costumes, and plenty of chemicals in that shed. Getting in would be the problem. It was not like I could just walk up and ask. And the place would be well guarded and swarming with police. And not your average beat cops, these men would have shot guns and body armor. Blackgate was just as treacherous as Arkham. This was not a place to hope to get in and out of on luck. I needed a real plan. And I foolishly did not have one. I scowled; Damn it all. I should not have been in such a rush. I neared the next exit, then I realized something. I could not read the signs.

"No," I said out loud in frustration. I had left my glasses back at Edward's house. This was just getting better by the second. I took another deep breath. I could not let this distract me. I had so much to do.

I knew about where I was going so I did not really need to read the road signs. I had about another ten minutes to drive. Then I would had to plan out my next step. I just needed to stay focused. I turned up the radio. I did not really care what was playing. I just wanted something to distract myself. I did know the song however; I smiled. I had once owned the album. It was so strange to hear it again. And it was probably the only song I had ever really loved. It was just so...me.

"Nursery rhymes are said, verses in my head

Into my childhood they're spoon fed

Hidden violence revealed, darkness that seems real

Look at the pages that cause all this evil"

I smiled and sang along. I knew it by heart still after all these years. I used to enjoy music much more, but that was so long ago. Before I found my purpose. Now, someone was taking that away. Taking the only thing I had ever had away. The song ended; I turned off the radio. It was time to focus.

I passed an orange sign; It read: Blackgate penitentiary. Hitch hikers may be escaping prisoners. I took another deep breath and pulled over. Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I was at a loss. There was no way I was getting into that place without causing a stir. Every and any person that could carry a badge was after me. I could not even go safely near that place at any time. It was guarded twenty-four hours a day. I leaned my forehead against the wheel; what was I to do?

A loud thump against the car's passenger side got my attention. I looked over, and standing there, with a stupid smile, was Edward.

"Heeeere's Eddie!" He said, face squashed on the window. I reached over and hit the glass sharply. He stumbled back, holding his nose. He shook it off and smiled, like I had been playing. Damn it, the worst part was I had brought this on myself.

Nygma opened the door and jumped into the car. He smiled broadly and spoke in an arrogant voice, "Oh, what's wrong? Did you think you'd walk right into GCPD's You-Steal-It-We-Store-It? Looks like you need some help, Spooky."

"Edward," I held back my anger, "First: do _not_ call me 'Spooky' again. Second: how did you find me?"

"Well," He smirked, very smugly. He brushed off his shirt and leaned toward me. "I knew you wouldn't be caught dead driving the Charger, so I put a tracker on this car." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a pair of glasses. My glasses.

"Do you know how to get in there?"

Nygma grinned and set my glasses on my face, "Maybe. Maybe not. Riddle me this: You can not run from me. You can not hide from me. I am your worst fear, but escaping me is only to open your eyes. What am I?"

"A nightmare." I was not sure where he was going with this. And I really did not care. "Edward, you are wasting my time. For the past three days you have been wasting my time!"

"You didn't complain last night."

I punched him. I did not even realized it had happened until I felt the impact. I was a little shocked; I had felt like hitting him many times but never had. I did not know why this time was different. I had caught him across the cheek bone, throwing his head to one side. I was surprised but not sorry. He wanted to test me and this is the reaction he got. He turned back his head slowly. Then he hit me back, knocking me into the car door. I felt my glasses break between his fist and the bridge of my nose. Without even really thinking, I brought up both my legs and kicked as hard as I could. The kick slammed Edward hard against the door. Next thing I knew he was on me, his hands around my neck, choking me. He shook me back and forth, slamming my head against the window. I grabbed for the screwdriver, pulling it out of the ignition. Nygma did not notice. He was screaming at me, but I could not understand, or even really hear it. I brought the screwdriver up and out, lining it up with Edward's head. He turned his head to look at it. All I had to do was stab.

I dropped the screwdriver. It did not slip; I was not losing awareness. I just let go of it. I did not know why. But I had done it. I just dropped the damn thing on the floor. Edward let go of me. He leaned against my chest and began sobbing loudly. I was furious. But not with him. With myself. More time wasted, and this time I had started this. Nygma wrapped his arms around me, bawling even louder.

I sighed, "What is it you want me to do, Edward?"

He mumbled incoherently into my chest. I shook him, "I can't understand you."

Edward leaned back, "Let me help you. I can help you solve this. I _want_ to help you. Please."

"Why?"

He sat up and shrugged, "Because I love you."

"No, you don't."

It was silent. Nothing. No cars, no birds, nothing. Edward stared hard at me; It was not like any look I had ever seen from him. I was at a loss for words.

"If that makes you feel better, Jonathan."

I felt my jaw drop. Not only was that probably the best impression of myself had I ever heard, but Edward had also been more serious than I had ever heard him. It was unsettling. I took a deep breath. Time was wasting.

"Alright," I said. Edward was very intelligent. Perhaps I had been going about this the wrong way. I had been so annoyed by his presence I had not thought of it. Maybe he was not as useless as I had first believed. "Tell me, what do we do?"

"Listen," He sat up, smiling like an idiot again. Like nothing had happened. "All we've got to do is get up to the office. I just knew it would come to this, so while you were sleeping I put together something. Just trust me on this, 'kay?"

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Fine. Okay."

He grinned stupidly, "Alright. We've got to ditch this car though. I'll get the plates off this car; They've got the tracker on them. You get in the Charger."

I scoffed and look to the floorboard of this car. My glasses were lying down there, broken in half at the nose piece. It was going to be a long day. I gathered up the pieces of my glasses and got out of the stolen car. Edward's hideous purple car was pulled up right behind it. I walked over and around the Charger, getting in the passenger's side. I never understood why these things were considered 'classics'.

Nygma finished with the plates on the other car then ran over and got in the driver's side. He tossed the plates in the back seat and started the car. "Alright, here we go! You know, did I ever tell you-" He went on about some escapade with Harley Quinn, a couple of hench-girls he used to have, and the Killer Moth. It was less than interesting and more than disgusting. We were approaching the storage facility and the prison.

"-So Echo was all like 'Eww!' and Harley was just kicking the hell outta-"

"Edward?"

"Uh, yeah, what's up?"

I smirked, "Isn't your father locked up here?"

He went quite. And it was about time. I leaned back, feeling a little better, despite the headache I had coming on. Edward was terrified of his father, even after all these years. I did not see why he did not just kill the man. I, myself, had been in a similar situation. And I took care of it.

I smiled; Edward had said once that I just could not help myself, and he was right. I would test him, just a little. "So, how long is your father's prison sentence?"

"Life."

Oh, a one word answer from Edward. Wonderful. "Is he eligible for parole?"

"No." Then the smile came back on his face. "Are you really going to sit there and poke at me like that? I would expect a little more from you." He turned the car sharply into the parking lot for the police storage. The tires screeched and the car fish-tailed a bit pulling into the gravel lot. I scowled. What was he trying to do? All he would accomplish from that stunt was just to draw unwanted attention. Nygma pulled up in front of the main office. It was a small building, old, probably mid-sixties. It looked almost like a snack-bar from a drive-in theater. An angular building, all windows. There was one officer inside, already staring at us. Nygma looked over at me and smiled wide.

"Just sit here and act normal." Edward leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

"Edward." I warned him, more in a growl. "They can see us."

He only laughed, "Yes, I know. Just trust me."

Turning and opening the door, Nygma smiled back over his shoulder at me. He was really getting on my nerves. I did not know what he was planning, but, for his sake, he had better hope that it would work. Edward bounced along up to the window. He greeted the officer there, waving his hands around like a moron. The officer smiled and nodded. The two of them carried on a conversation for what seemed like an hour. The both of them seemed to be in good spirits. Finally, Edward nodded and shook the officer's hand. He came running back to the car and the chain-link gate that blocked off the storage sheds began rolling open. Edward opened the car door and jumped in.

"How did you accomplish that?" I said, slightly stunned.

Edward smirked, "You'd be surprised how far a smile and a kind word can take you." He pulled out a heavy plastic card and handed to me, "Of course, a fake ID and a little computer hacking helps."

As Nygma started the car, I looked over the card. Mr. John S. Edwards. I smirked; If this worked, the Gotham City Police were even more incompetent than I believed. The car pulled forward and entered the fenced off area of the facility. The area inside was like a normal storage lot, long metal buildings with drop-down doors. There were six rows of the steel buildings, three normal sized, two larger, and the last looked like a hanger. Edward pulled along side one of the larger building and stopped.

"Here we are! Cops got a sense of humor it seems," He laughed and pointed at the unit. It was number thirteen-thirteen. Nygma turned off the Charger and held up a key with a large black tag attached, "Shall we?"

I nodded and got out. Both of us stepped out of the car and to the garage door of the shed. Edward took the key and unlocked the shed, then pulled up on the handle. The door creaked and groaned, and only moved a foot up. He pulled again. The door move a few more inches. Edward struggled pathetically, pulling on the stuck door. I sighed and grabbed the handle. I shoved the door closed again, then jerked it up as hard as I could. It slid all the way open without a fight.

"How'd you know to do that?" Nygma said, rather embarrassed.

I just shrugged, "It's not that difficult to figure out."

Saying nothing, Edward walked into the shed. It was full of file boxes and plastic totes. There were also some larger things in there. My car I had the first time I was arrested. Some furniture from my old office. My old biplane, with the wings removed and leaned against the unit's steel wall. And there were at least thirty large tanks of fear gas. I wondered how old they were; Some of my older versions of toxin were flammable. It would be a good idea to remember that should we get into trouble.

"So, what are we looking for, Jon?" Edward grumbled, still nursing his wounded pride.

"I don't know."

Nygma threw his shoulders back and scoffed dramatically, "_You don't know!_ I didn't say before, but we got about twenty minutes before Deputy Dip-shit up there finds out 'Mr. Edwards' is not really suppose to be here. Then this place is going to be more packed with cops than a doughnut shop on two for Tuesdays!"

I took a deep breath. "Look for anything that has been opened. These boxes are all taped shut. Or anything that looks like it's out of place." I turned and began looking over the boxes. I could here Edward shuffling around behind me. There was nothing that looked out of place. Everything was stack and categorized. I had to go about this a different way; Time was running out.

"Hey! Jon!" Edward shouted. I turned and looked at him. He waved me over to him, "Over here. These are all open. The tape was just set back on the sides, not stuck."

I rushed over. There were four boxes, sitting on the hood of my old car. I threw the plastic lids off them. The first one was full of plaques and framed certificates. The second, a random assortment of passes, ID, and uniforms. The third, Scarecrow costumes, and the last box, I found to be rather strange. It was full of CDs, tapes, and even a few vinyls. All music.

"Whoa, look at this stuff!" Edward smirked, shuffling through the first box. "You are really an over-achiever, Spooky!"

"_Enough! Take the last two._" I snapped at him. "Look for something, anything, that could have been from the thief."

Edward did exactly as he was told without argument. I had to admit; He was very obedient when it mattered. I turned my attention to the first two. I took out the plaques and frames, stacking them on the car. There was nothing there to go on. And I could not tell if any others were missing. I looked over all the awards and certificates. It seemed like I was looking at something that belonged to someone else. I had worked so hard for all these, but now they meant nothing to me. It was strange.

"Hey!"

I looked up at Edward, "What? What is it?"

He smiled stupidly, "Look at all this Metal! There are bands in here I've never even heard of! And you have every Korn album EVER! And... _My Chemical Romance!_ Really, Jonathan? Really?" He shook his head, feigning disappointment. "Oh my god, look at all the Fleetwood Mac!"

I turned back to the second box, ignoring Nygma's out burst. I just let it go; At least if he was distracted, he would not be in my way. I shuffled through the box, but it was a mess. I started tossing things out, inspecting them to make sure that they had belonged to me. I found a pair of glasses among the junk. I put them on. They were not the same prescription as my broken pair. That was fine; I would just switch the lenses later. I took the glasses off and hooked them on the collar of my shirt.

Edward, of course, still had to bother me, "No, but seriously, why all the Fleetwood Mac? Korn or MCR, I mean that's understandable. That's so much more...you. But Fleetwood Mac?"

I held my composure, despite the constant annoyance. I answered his foolish question, "Because, a long time ago, I had a crush on Stevie Nicks. I was a different person then."

"Say what?" Nygma started laughing hard, "If you weren't saying it, I wouldn't believe it. I wonder what she would think if she knew that?"

"I don't care."

Edward scoffed, "You know, I-hey, what the hell is this?"

I snapped my head around. He was holding what looked to be a jump drive. I must have had thousands of those, and I was sure many of them were here. However, I had never seen one like this one. It had the USB plug but the drive itself was a sphere, metallic and black. There was a date etched on the outside. A week ago. The drive had been damage, the casing cracked. I snatched it from Edward, looking at it closely. Nothing else to it. The drive was unremarkable, not even a company name on it. Maybe it was custom. If it was, then it would be most useful.

"It looks like a jump drive." I said, sticking the object in my pocket. I then picked up the box of costumes. "This will do."

Edward nodded, "Let's get the hell out of here." He grabbed my arm and jerked me along. "We got about six minutes until shift change. That's when the glitch I put in their system expires. Stop dragging your feet, Spooky."

We both ran and jumped in the car, leaving the storage unit open. Edward turned the ignition and tore out of the lot. He hit the breaks, causing the car to slide a good forty feet. It stopped right next to the window of the office. The guard on duty looked out at Edward, bewildered. Nygma smiled and handed him the black key. Then he floored the car again, shifting gears on it like it was a drag race. The car ripped through the gravel lot, throwing up a cloud of dust. Edward turned the wheel sharply and the car slid sideways, drifting. Now he was just showing off. The Charger drifted out of the lot and on to the black top. Edward corrected the drift and took threw the car back into high gear, heading straight for Gotham. I shoved the box of costumes into the back seat. Edward began fidgeting with his shirt. He smiled and reached into his shirt without looking. He pulled out a CD. One of mine. He tossed it in my lap.

"Put that in!" Nygma laughed, "The last track please."

I shrugged and nodded. I smirked. Edward must have taken more than one. I put in the disc and hit the last track.

"Eww! Wrong CD!" Edward whined. "I can't stand MCR! Turn it off!"

I smiled and turned up the radio full blast. This would be a nice drive. As this album suggests: Three cheers for sweet revenge.


	6. Sine Somnia

_Chapter 6. Sorry. This chapter is obscenely long. I just could not find a good place to cut it up. Lyrics from Demolition Lovers by MCR are used in a rather ironic way, I do not own them. But I would suggest putting it on and turning it up as loud as possible while reading this. And I don't own Ducati, nor do I own one. Sadness..._

Edward fastened his seat belt, "Oh, great. Looks like we've got company."

I looked back out through the back windshield. Three Gotham City squad cars were on our tail. Great. Just wonderful.

Nygma pressed on the accelerator, "Get in the back seat. I have some stuff back there for this kind of emergency. Riddle me this-"

"Not now, Edward!" I snapped at him as I crawled into the back seat of the sports car, "Focus on the road!"

"Fine! Lift up the seat!"

The back seats of Edward's car had been modified into storage units. I lifted up the seat on the left side. There was an Uzi and a few had grenades. I picked up the gun. I aimed and shot out the back window. Mostly. I was not very accustom to using this type of firearm, so the recoil caught me off guard. I put out the window and put a few holes in the roof. Oh well.

"NO! What the FUCK are you doing?" Nygma screamed as if he were in agony. I ignored him and leaned on the back of the car out the broken window. I could not see the cars well enough for a precise shot, but I supposed that an Uzi is not a precise weapon. I pulled the trigger. I aimed at the windshields and sprayed. The police cars swerved all over, trying to avoid my fire. This would not do any good. I could not control this weapon well enough nor could I see well enough without my glasses to hit with said weapon. I tossed the gun to the floorboard and turned back to the compartment in the seat. I grabbed a grenade. It was, to my dismay, only a flash grenade. I pulled the pin and tossed it out. Not the best toss; the grenade went off too far to the left and exploded on the side of the road. Damn. This would not do at all.

Edward swerved and I was roughly thrown to one side of the car. I sat up, bracing myself against the seats. I looked to the road ahead. I did not know where Nygma was taking us, but it could not have been a good idea. We were no longer on a major highway, but a two lane black-top, somewhere out in the woods. The road was winding and hilly, making it very dangerous at these speeds. I supposed the police would have trouble with it. The Riddler, however, was not. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing. Handling every curve perfectly and making use of strait sections of the road, the squad cars were falling behind.

"Edward?"

"Shut up! Don't talk to me for a while!" Nygma snapped, "Sit down! Put a seat belt on! We're about to lose them for good!"

I did as I was told, not knowing if it was the wisest decision. I could not see well enough to determine where the road went. It looked as though it just dropped off into the trees.

"Edward?"

"Shut up!"

The car was hitting near top speed. We were nearing the end of the strait away. Still, it looked as though the road ended ahead.

"Edward, what are-"

"_Shut the fuck up, Jonathan!_" He yelled back at me as he turned the wheel hard. The car drifted completely sideways. The road curved into a hairpin turn, nearly doubling back. Nygma drifted the car around the curve as if it were the easiest thing in the world. A grin stretched across his face, and he corrected the drift. The car revved, jerked, and took off down another strait stretch of road. I did not bother to looked behind us. I could hear the screeching of tires and the obvious smash and crunch of a collision. The sounds of the sirens began to fade as the Charger raced away at a hundred and thirty.

Edward kept going at top speed. He would look back in the rear view mirror every so often, at the road, then me. After a while, Nygma slowed down to normal speed. He kept driving, however. The road started to get narrower and turned to just to gravel. It was starting to get dark, the sun setting behind the trees. It was silent. Edward did not say a word. And I had nothing to say to him. Of course, after about an hour, he had to talk. He can not help it.

"Okay, Jon." Edward slowed the car and pulled to the side of the road, "I think we need to talk."

"I don't want to."

"Fine then," He shut off the car and turned around in the driver's seat, "Then you can sit there like a dead fucking stick and listen!"

"Edwa-"

"NO! Shut the fuck up, Jonathan." Edward put out a hand in warning, like the was going to slap me. "You didn't want to talk, so don't! You know, we've worked together before, maybe not this much and not in this type of situation, but-I mean it, shut up! But you never been like this!"

"Like what?" My question was met with a backhand. It did not really hurt, but it made me rather angry none the less.

"I said shut up." Nygma crawled onto the center console. He stared uncomfortably hard at me, "You know what I mean; You are nowhere near stupid. I mean, anytime I've ever spent with you, it been all death threats and terrorizing. Then all of a sudden, 'horny teenager Jon' comes outta left field. I've know you for a few years now, and never seen that coming! I know we've never spent this much time together before, but- Are you still listening to me? You can answer now."

I nodded slowly, "Yes. It seems you're angry because I played into your delusion. I gave you what you wanted."

Edward pulled at his hair and threw his head back, "No! Goddamn it! You aren't getting it! That's not what I wanted and I am not delusional!" He flopped back down into the driver's seat, "Is it so hard for you to accept that someone might actually care about you?"

"No one cares about me, Edward. You least of all."

He took a deep breath and started the car back up, "You are wrong. You're wrong, Jon. I care about you. And you should be happy about it!"

"Why is that?"

Nygma laughed a little, "Because it scares the hell out of me. I mean, when I was locked up in Arkham and you were on the loose, I was worried sick about you, terrified something would happen to you. When they brought you in this last time, I heard the Batman roughed you up. I was scared to death that it was serious. And all this mess with this copycat, it upsets you. And I'm afraid that it's putting too much stress on you." He was quite for a moment. He sighed, driving down the gravel road again, "You call me delusional and say I just do this for attention, but there's no one here now, Jonathan. Just us. And you started this, just for the record."

I was at a loss for words. Edward was right; I had started this. And there was no one around for him to impress. But he had to be delusional. If he thought that he had feelings for me, it had to be a delusion.

"It was one night, Edward. Don't act like it meant anything."

"Oh really?" He laughed loudly, "So, why was it then you didn't stab me in the eye with a screwdriver earlier? Why is it so hard for you to admit that you care about me just as much as I care about you?"

"You're right about that," I answered him coldly; He was starting to get on my nerves again, "I do care about you as much as you do me: not at all." 

"That's a lie."

"No," I said flatly, trying to keep my anger under control. He was doing this just to test me. But I could push right back. "I'm not a liar like you are."

Nygma slammed on the breaks. The car's brakes screeched and the vehicle fish tailed before coming to a stopped. I braced myself against the passengers seat to kept from being flung all over the back seat. Edward sat, quiet, unmoving. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Then he took a deep breath and let it out.

"Jonathan," Edward spoke, looking strait forward at the road. "I have put up with a lot and been extremely forgiving, given the circumstance. I have let you use me, in a multitude of ways. And even put up with you tearing up my house. But I-" He whipped around and took the Uzi up out of the floorboard, pointing it directly at me. "-have had enough of the bullshit! You want to play your sick little mind games, that's cool. You want to poison me and leaving screaming on the floor, okay. You want to be friend with benefits, I guess I could do that. I've done worse. But I am sick of you calling me a liar!"

Putting the muzzle of the gun to my forehead, Edward smirked, "Tell me, Jon, do you think I'd die for you?"

"No."

"Well, let me make _you_ the liar." Nygma pulled the gun from my head and put it to his own. He put the barrel right to his temple. And he pulled the trigger.

"No! Edward!" I said it, but I had not meant to. It just came out; I was not really in control of myself. I felt as if I were watching someone else as I grabbed for the gun. I felt on the outside of the situation; it made the half-second seem like as hour.

Click.

The gun had been empty. I had used the whole clip shooting at the police cars. Edward grinned broadly, "What was that about not caring about me?"

?-?

"Jon?" I set down the empty piece and snapped my fingers in front of his face. Nothing. Great this again.

Jonathan slouched back into the back seat, staring blankly. I leaned over and waved a hand in front of his face.

I sighed, "Okay, Can I speak to Dr. Crane?"

Jon shook his head, "No, Dr. Crane is not in."

"Okay, how about Scarecrow?"

Another head shake, "He's in, but he doesn't want to speak to you. He says you're a flaming douche bag."

Of course he did. Jonathan had a rather amusing way of not dealing with stuff. "Okay, When can I speak with Jonathan?"

"Name?"

This was slightly on the ridiculous side, "Edward Nygma."

Jonathan sat quiet a moment, then spoke in his robot-receptionist voice again, "I'm sorry, Mr. Nygma. Dr. Crane has canceled your appointments and requested that you take a long walk off a short pier."

I turned back around. Oh well, he would have to come back to reality sometime, "Whatever, jackass. When your decide to quit throwing a fit, I'm here."

"I'll pass the message along."

"You do that," I said, throwing the car into drive. God damn, Jonathan could really get on my nerves. I knew it was that whole copycat business that had him on edge like this, but this was so far from anything I had seen from him. He had never been so out of control before. I mean, for a normal person this may not be out of control, but Jon was far from being a normal person. At this point, in comparison, a normal person would be foaming at the mouth and chewing the upholstery if they were at the level he was right now. I did feel a little responsible. Maybe it was wrong of me to go along with what happened last night. Not that I regretted it, but it did seem only push Jonathan further. Oh well, too late for that now.

The car was running low on gas and it was dark out; It was okay. I knew where I was going. We would come up to my safe house any minute now. I had taken a lot of time to memorize the roads around the house, in case of emergencies. I drove all of them to be sure I could make a quick escape. I looked back in the mirror at Jonathan. Still off in Spooky-land. I could still fix this situation. All it was was just a wrong turn. I would just have to rework the puzzle at a different angle. Although I wish this copycat mess would go away. Where is the damned Batman when you really need him? You would think with all his resources, he would already have caught this loser. Maybe Batman really is as stupid and incompetent as I thought.

Coming around a corner, my house came in to view. Of course. I had prepared perfectly, as usual. I looked back to Jon again. Still not back yet. I sighed. This would be difficult.

"Riddle me this: I have no walls, halls, or doors, but one can get lost in me. I am all that you are, were, and will one day just be. All you have to do is close your eyes to see me. What am I?" I said, only to myself.

"A memory."

I looked back in the mirror. Jonathan was back, looking rather agitated. I smirked, "So, decided to come back? Do you remember the first time we met?"

"I try not to."

I chuckled. Jon never lacked smart-ass comments. I looked back at him again, "They stuck you in with me as punishment remember? Back when they still put you in with other people. That was the first time I was tossed in Arkham."

"Yes." Jonathan looked out the window, expressionless as always, "You kept acting like you were totally insane, rambling on about goblins or something stupid like that."

I laughed hard, "It was trolls. I told them that there were trolls in the toilets. I was trying get them to haul me around so I could survey the place, find an escape route. You saw right through me though. Everyone else bought it." I smirked. Good times. "That was the same time you threw that huge-ass spider you caught in our cell on the guard. I thought that dude was going to have a heart attack. It was awesome." I was laughing uncontrollably now. I looked back in the mirror. Jon smirked, just a little. But for him, that was like a big, stupid-ass grin.

I could not give up now. I was getting back to him, "And that was the first time I saw Cash. Still had both his hands then. You remember what he said to you?"

Jon sighed, "Yes. He said: 'You sick motherfucker, where were you keeping that?' Edward, I-"

"Yeah," I interrupted him; There was no reason to let him ruin a good conversation. I took a deep breath, trying to stop myself from laughing, "And you were all like 'In a pillow case, under Edward's bunk.' I remember we had it there for days. I named it Cupcake! And you were like 'It's not a pet, Edward. This spider is for my research.' Cash was so pissed, mainly 'cause we really didn't break any rules. He took all the blankets and shit out the cell. I-" I thought a second. I kept talking, but I was not laughing anymore. "I lent you my shirt because it was cold and you were kinda sick."

"Edward, stop the car."

"Wha-Why?"

"Because you're driving past the house."

X-X

Nygma stopped the car abruptly. He backed up and turned off into the drive way of his house. I was trying to get my thoughts together. I knew what had happened. I blacked out again. Edward had made me do so with that little stunt of his. I had been a fool. Of course, he had still been acting out. I was still there to get attention from, so why would he stop? I looked over to the box of Scarecrow costumes I had taken from police storage. I had a few things of fear toxin in there I had grabbed as well. I was rather sure circumstances had change from the last time I had decided to conduct research on Edward.

Pulling into the garage, Edward scoffed at the damaged windshield and roof. "Damn it, Jon. Why didn't you just lean out the window?"

"Because that's even more dangerous."

He did not respond. He turned off the car and stepped out, leaning up the driver's seat so I could get out. I stepped out and noticed there was something new in the garage. There was something rather large covered with a tarp. Nygma laughed, and I turned back to him.

"Go ahead. Go look." He smirked, pointing to the tarp. I cautiously moved near the covered object. Not that I thought Edward had something up his sleeve, I had just learned the hard way to be ready for anything. I grabbed the corner of the tarp and pulled it back. Underneath was a huge black motorcycle. A beautiful motorcycle.

"It's a Ducati Streetfighter, closest thing I could find to the one we were on the other day. It's yours, of course. I can't stand those things. I made a few calls yesterday. It came after you left this afternoon." Edward sat on the hood of the Charger, "Here's the deal Jon: You are completely out of control. I know you know this as well as I do. I think you're just stressed out. So here's what we're going to do about it: You're going to go eat something, get some sleep, and then, tomorrow we're going to pretend there is no copycat out there and do something fun."

I shook my head, "I don't have time for fun."

"Oh, right. Then how about some 'research'?" Edward pulled his feet up and crossed his legs. He leaned back on his hands, "You see, there's some kind of protest going on inside a Wayne Tech office building tomorrow. Something to do with lab animals, Wayne's hosting the protest. I think it would be funny to find out what it is hippies are afraid of. And that eighteen thousand dollar street bike is begging to be driven."

I sighed. It was rather tempting; A great opportunity to see the effects of group fear. But I had wasted so much time already. On the other hand, I would love to ride that bike. I tossed Edward's proposition over and over in my head. I took a deep breath.

"Okay. You win. Which building is it?"

Nygma jumped up off the hood of his car, "Alright! It's in _the_ Wayne Tech building. The one you can see from Arkham Island? Yup, that one! There's going to be a few hundred people inside and a few hundred more in the street for this thing. They have been planning it for almost a year. I was going to hit it on my own but I think you could make better use of the situation."

I nodded, and smirked. He had this already planned out, probably the whole thing. "So, tell me what you have planned?"

"In the morning," Edward smiled wide. "The event starts as seven at night, so we've got time."

I walked back over to the Charger and opened up the passenger's side door. I grabbed the box from police storage. "I think this requires a little more planning than that. I don't even have any chemicals ready."

Nygma grabbed me by the arm and drug me along as he went into the basement, "Ah, but you do!"

"Edward, I-"

He cut me off, "Riddle me this: One who received me may owe me. I can be both a help or a chore. Being given many of me can be great, but giving too many makes you a fool. What am I?"

"A favor."

"Exactly," Edward lead me into the downstairs living room. "A rather stupid cop that works at the police lock up, he owed me a huge favor. That's how I got the Ducati. And these!" Edward threw open the door to the downstairs bedroom. There were six large tanks of my fear toxin, setting randomly about in the room. A recent batch as well.

"Okay, Edward." I sat the box down on the couch and began to rummage through it, "That does not help as much as you seem to think. We still have to set this up. I am guessing you want to hook these up to the ventilation system in the building."

"Well, yeah." He smiled triumphantly.

"And how do you propose we do that in time?" I found the set of syringes and tossed them on the couch, continuing to dig in the box.

Nygma leaned over the couch, "Well, you see, a lot of people owe me. An old...associate of mine has already taken care of that. Did it this morning. Emailed me the pictures of it even."

I stared hard at him, "Then why even bother including me in this then?"

"Jonathan." He bit his lip, "I was only trying to help you out. And besides, would you have done it any differently?"

I shrugged and pulled a vial of toxin out of the box, "No. Not really. So tell me, how do we set this off?"

Edward sat down on the couch, leaning on the box of costumes, "That's the best part. It'll go off on its own. We don't even really have to be there. I know you'll want to be though. And I have a little something of my own for those stupid hippies."

I picked up a packaged syringe, "And you can trust this 'associate'?"

Edward threw of his jacket, "Oh yeah, Pumpkin's solid."

"Pumpkin?"

"Oh, that's what she calls herself." Edward laid back on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table, "Does a lot of grunt work for a lot of guys. She's even done stuff for the Joker. I mean, you don't live very long if you screw up a job for the Joker, so you know she's competent."

I extracted some toxin from the vial with the syringe, "Fine, but if this gets us thrown back in Arkham, I will show you horrors beyond what even your mind could comprehend."

Edward rolled his eyes, "Sure, whatever you say, Spooky. Left or right?"

"What?"

Nygma let out a rather dramatic sigh, "I'm not stupid, Jon. Which arm are you going to stick me in today? Left or right?"

I shrugged, "Your choice."

"Okay, right." He rolled up his sleeve. "What'll this do to me, being exposed this much?"

I took hold of his arm. The veins there were rather easy to see. I could feel his pulse under my fingers; it was normal. "I don't really know. Some subjects go catatonic after one dose, others it takes a few. And then there is the Batman. Rather interesting subject; He's taken more than I have administer to any other subject, and it seems to have no effect on his mental state, once or ever."

Edward watched as I stuck the needle into his skin. He flinched a little but did not fight. He sighed, "He's probably already crazier than a shit house mouse."

I injected the toxin, "I suppose that is a possibility. But you're the only willing subject I have come across, so what does that say for you, Edward?"

"I couldn't tell you, Spooky." He said, as his eyes dilated.

It was not so hard this time. Edward stopped screaming after a few hours. He was screaming about his father, and he was not stupid. He screamed and cried about getting beaten. Then screamed about me a while. I did not have to leave this time; I stayed and watched. It was so strange, this delusion of his.

He was being quiet now. I knew he was still hallucinating, but the chemicals were wearing down. Nygma was just muttering to himself and curled on the floor under the coffee table. I wondered if this last dose had broken him. I walked through the living room and into the downstairs kitchen. I normally avoided eating while I was working, but I did not want to hear Edward complain if he made it through his session. I shuffled through the cabinets and the refrigerator. There was mostly just junk food. I did manage to find at least something I could make myself eat. A package of noodles, not the vile Americanized top-ramen, but something with a Korean label. I guessed that it would have to do. Find dishes proved even harder. I eventually had to settle for a square, plastic storage bowl. I dumped the noodles and seasoning in the bowl, put some water on them, and tossed them in the microwave. Eating noodles out of Tupperware; my, was I moving up in the world.

I walked back to the living room and sat down on the couch. Nygma was completely silent now, curled up in a ball. He was sucking his thumb. I shoved him a bit with my foot.

"Edward?"

"Shut up." He whimpered out, not taking the thumb from his mouth. "Leave me alone, Jonathan."

Fascinating. He was showing a good amount of resilience to the side effects of my fear toxin. He was proving to be a most useful subject, so long as I could keep myself in control. Perhaps he could help me better understand long term effects of constant exposure of concentrated doses better. I would continue with the dosage I had administered the last two times until the results changed. It may become necessary to try using the gas rather than injections to reduce the possibility of damage to the injection site, but then there is the possibility of lung and brain damage. That would shorten the life of the subject, as well as his usefulness.

The beeping of the microwave brought me out of my thoughts. I got up and retrieved the bowl of noodles. I spent a good ten minutes trying to find some sort of flatware to eat the damn things with. Edward had no organization skills; Well, at least none that made sense to anyone but him. I finally found a fork. I stirred the noodles, thinking. I was thinking of him as 'Edward' again, not a subject. That was my whole problem right there. He was just another subject, not a friend or anything else. It would do me no good to get attached to him. I took a bite of my food. It was not so bad. Better than most of the junk the subject had.

"Jon?" Nygma stumbled into the kitchen. He was already up moving about; Next time I would have to give him a higher dose.

"What is it, Edward?"

He coughed and spoke in a scratchy voice, "Could I sleep down here with you?"

I sighed and took another bite. Damn it. "It's your house, Edward. You can sleep where ever you want."

He nodded and wandered off. I shook my head. This was more than out of hand. I had made such a mistake with this. I quickly finished the noodles and rinsed out the bowl, leaving it in the sink. I needed to get to sleep. According to the clock on the microwave, it was nearly two in the morning. If I really were to go to the Wayne Tech building, it would have to be rather early. I left the kitchen and headed over to the downstairs bedroom. I stepped in, moving through the tanks of toxin. Edward was not there. I sighed in relief and threw off my cloths, down to just my underwear. I crawled into the bed and curled in the blankets.

Just as I was about to fall asleep, Edward flopped into the bed next to me. He squirmed around and got under the blankets, curling up against my back. He pulled himself right against me. He was wearing silk pajamas and was still damp from a shower. I could feel his heart beat, still rather fast, and he was trembling.

"Jon?"

I bit my lip. I did not answer. He shook me a little, "Jonathan?"

I decided it would be best to answer him, "What is it, Edward?"

"Say a rhyme to me." I could feel his face against my back as he spoke, "Please, Jonathan."

"_Sing a song of sixpence a pocket full of rye,  
>Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie.<br>When the pie was opened the birds began to sing,  
>Oh wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the king?<em>"

I said something at random, really. Edward clung tightly to me. I sighed. So much for the professionalism I was trying to re-establish.

X-X

I sat at the coffee table, taking the lenses out of the broken frame of my glasses. The pair of glasses I had taken from the police lock up had smaller lenses, but they would still be able to hold the newer lenses if I used the longer screws. I made short work of it; I was used to having my glasses broken.

I put on my glasses and turned my attention to the box from police storage. There were several different costumes in it. I took them out and folded them, putting each outfit together. One I tossed aside; It had a large hole in it and was covered in blood. A few others were damaged, but nothing I could not fix. Looking through the clothing, I decided to go with something practical. An older costume, a heavy brown trench coat, matching pants, black shirt, a plan mask, leather gloves, and hat. And ropes for the ankles and neck. Of course, I would have to get a hold of some straw. And I would need some kind of smaller containers for fear gas. I did have some liquid toxin in the box with the costumes, but only a few liters. Not anywhere near what I wanted.

I grabbed the costume, all but the mask and hat, and headed for the basement bathroom. I really needed a shower, and to check on my leg. It did not hurt at all anymore, but that did not necessarily mean anything. The bathroom down here was a lot more subdued than the rest of the house, just a small white, half-bath with only a walk in shower. I set the costume down on the toilet. I looked in the mirror as I undressed. I was a little shocked; I had taken a lot more damage than I had realized lately. My nose was bruised across the bridge. I had cuts and bruised all over my shoulders and arms. And, much to my disgust, I had a few bite marks on my neck and right shoulder. I shook my head; They would go away. I turned my attention to my leg, removing the bandages. The wound was healing properly and was hardly swollen at all. Good. I would be able to take out the stitches in a few days, about the same as the ones on my hand. Those would have been sooner if Edward had not ripped them out. I got into the shower and turned it on. I stood under the water, thinking. I would look at that jump drive when I was done here. I did not have high hopes for it, being that it was left behind, but it would not do to over look anything.

I finished my shower, re-bandaged my leg, and dressed. I went to the bedroom to dig the drive out of the cloths I had been wearing yesterday. Edward was still sleeping, snoring and mumbling. I swear, he is never quiet. I scoffed and took out the jump drive from the pants pocket. I looked over it again; There was something about it. It was just a feeling rather than anything substantial. Then, the drive was snatched from my hand.

"Nope! For the next twenty-four hours, this doesn't exists." Edward, who was wide awake now, leaned over me. He was up on the bed, holding the drive out behind him at arms length.

"Edward, give it back."

"No!" He smiled and said, like a spoiled child. "We'll look at it tomorrow."

"Edward, I am not playing with you. Give. It. Back."

He shook his head, no longer smiling, "I'm not playing either. We will look it over tomorrow. We have other things to do today."

We stared at each other, silent. Nygma was so stubborn. I guessed I would just have to let it go. I simply turned and walked out of the room. I had more to prepare. I could hear Edward shuffling, swearing, and throwing things around in the bedroom. I shook my head; He could be such an idiot sometimes. I took what little supplies I had and put them into interior pockets of my coat.

"Edward," I spoke loudly so he could hear me in the bedroom and over his own noise. "I need to get some straw."

"Sure," He said stepping out of the bedroom, already dressed in some tacky red outfit. "I've got some things to get as well; I'll pick you up some."

Nygma headed out of the basement, patting me on the shoulder as he stepped past me. He walked out the door. I waited until I heard his car start, then went back to the bed room. I was going to see what was on that jump drive. For a what seemed like hours, I tore that room a part. There was a random assortment of Edward's junk, but the drive was not among his thing. I shook my head; he must have taken it with him. Damn it all.

I went into the other room and sat back down on the couch. I leaned my head back. Maybe Edward was right; Maybe I was out of control. This whole business had me so off task. It would probably do me some good to get some major research in. Yes, it would do a lot of good. I felt myself drifting off to sleep.

Edward slammed the door open, waking me up from a dream I could not remember. He was hauling around a rather large box.

"Help me out here," He dropped the box next to the couch. "Can you fill these?" He took a canister out of the box and tossed it to me.

"Yes."

"Okay, let's get to it then," Nygma smirked and lifted the box again, moving it over behind the couch. He grabbed a tank from the bedroom and rolled in out. Setting the tank up, he waved stupidly.

"I'm going to change!" He smirked and went into the bedroom.

I started filling the canisters with fear gas. They weren't exactly military grade, but they would do. I filled them and tucked them into my coat. As I was working on those, I heard Edward shuffling around in the bedroom again. He was cursing and throwing things about. Probably angry that everything was disorganized from when I had searched the room. Eventually, he stumbled out of the bedroom, now dressed in a ridiculous Riddler out fit. Green spandex with black question marks all over, his red hair slicked back. And of course, wearing a green masks over his eyes. I hated that outfit; I think it was the most ugly, tacky thing I had seen anyone wear. I had seen Pamela Isley wear things less tasteless than that. However, I could see why he wore it though. If he wanted attention, that suit would get him it, in abundance.

Grabbing his cane from a nearby holder, he smirked, "Much better. So that straw of yours, it's out in the garage when you are ready for it."

I got up and left for the garage. Edward followed, of course. Maybe that was the real issue, him following me like a lost puppy. And the fact that he would not just go away. He seemed to be quite adept as stalking people. I got out to the garage. There was a bale of straw sitting on the hood of the Charger. I went over to it and started stuffing my outfit.

"I love the smell of that stuff." The Riddler said, leaning on the roof of his car. "Riddle me this: I make the proudest man a fool, the cruelest beast kind, and a genius into a an idiot. I can break the strongest of spirits. I can give one great strength or break one's soul down to nothing. I can be both happiness and tears. I can be a saving grace, also the cruelest of afflictions. What am I?"

I took out my hat and began stuffing it, "I don't know this one, Edward."

Walking over next to me, he sighed, "I suppose you wouldn't. You know what, Jon?"

"What, Edward?" I turned to face him. He had a rather strange look in his eye. I was not sure how I felt about it. He leaned in close to me, wrapping his arms around me.

"I remember, back when I first fell in love with you." He spoke into my chest, his arms around my shoulders, "Crawling in next to you when you were sleeping... you smelled just like this..."

Now I was getting rather uncomfortable. This was too much. I could not tolerate this. But I could not make myself move. I was petrified; I supposed this was the closest I could come to being afraid anymore. I was disappointed by that. I _wanted_ to be afraid. But why? It was hard for me to get my mind around the idea that just this simple act had me so up-heaved. I had obviously been much closer to him than this. I suddenly realized I had no real problem with physical contact; What disturbed me was affection. It was the only thing that Edward did that really confused me. It brought me to the edge; it brought back a part of me I thought I had killed a long time ago. And I did not miss. Except the fear, I missed that. But not even he could scare me anymore. I pushed Edward away.

"I have things to do." I said, turning away from him.

?-?

"Jon, wait." I called after him. He just kept walking, going back into the basement. Goddamn it. For supposedly being emotionless, he acted awfully like a damn Emo kid. This was probably the most frustrating and vexing puzzle I had ever been challenged with. It seemed like every step forward was followed by six steps back. And every time I thought I had a real break through, it would turn out to be just another dead end. It did not matter; I would just try harder. The greater the challenge, the greater the reward. And Jonathan was just about the greatest thing I had ever wanted. I always got what I wanted, no matter what.

I leaned against my poor, abused Charger. It was getting rather late in the day. If Jon was still willing to go through with this little scheme, we needed to be leaving soon. I shoved the bale of hay off the hood; It bothered me to leave such a mess but cleaning it up would take too much time. I ran back into the basement.

"JON!" I yelled for him. "Come on, we gotta get going!"

Jonathan stepped out and towards me, wearing his hat and mask now, "_Let's get this over with._"

I knew I had upset him again. I nodded, "I'll meet you up at the building back behind the Wayne Tech office. It's on Elm. There'll be an open garage, okay?"

"_Fine_."

"Don't get caught on the way there." I said to him. Jon only pushed past me, headed for his bike. He started the thing up and tore out of the garage. I sighed. I hated motorcycles, and it worried me sick knowing Jon was zipping around on that thing like a cat on crack. He was not even wearing a helmet or anything. Did he even think about what could happen if he crashed that ugly-ass thing? I sighed; This would be a long day. I got into my car and started her up. I shuddered at the shot out back windshield. Damn you Jonathan.

I threw the car into reverse and pulled out of the garage. I threw my car back into first and took off. Flooring it, I up-shifted, hitting the highway, already at sixty. The sun was starting to set; it was already five o'clock. It would take about an hour to get set up at the point Pumpkin had specified. And Of course, I had to finish filling Jon in. I got my car up to fifth gear; I had to pick up the pace.

The highway was completely clear here. I had hoped to catch up to Jonathan on his damn bike but no such luck. That stupid thing could go near a hundred-eighty mile per hour. The idea made me ill. I guessed it was my fault for getting it for him. I just could not help it; I just seemed to want to spoil Jon. Not like he does not deserve it. God knows it's about time someone appreciated him. He is so intelligent; it was just _criminal_ for him to be abused and neglected like he was so often.

My car ripped down the highway, nearing the off ramp into Gotham. The smell from the city had already gotten unbearably strong. I never understood why people wanted to live here. The place was almost literally hell on earth. It had to be because they were just completely stupid. I guessed that's what kept me here; Getting rid of said stupid people. I laughed, and turned pulled onto the exit. I maneuvered the car to a drift to avoid slowing down too much. As soon as I hit the city limits, I would be at serious risk of being chased. No big deal. The GCPD was about as competent as a toddler would be at astrophysics. I flew through the streets, weaving in and out of traffic. I was trying to stick mostly to the side streets, avoiding rush hour. I bet Jon was fairing better than me. I hoped he was.

I pulled on to Elm and almost rear-ended another car. I had to whip into a side street immediately. Elm was packed solid. I slowed down and pulled on to the next street up. Taking the car around to the back of the building I was headed to, I pulled around getting to the garage. The place was owned by a mob boss, yet another favor I cashed in on. I sighed; Jonathan was exhausting my resources.

In the garage, leaning on his bike, Jon was already here. He was wearing his mask, but I could still tell he was agitated with me. I turned off and stepped out of my Charger, going around to where Jonathan was leaning.

"Okay," I said, checking that my hair was still in place. "Here's the plan: There's a maintenance tunnel that leads over to the Wayne Tech place. You're going to take it and use the elevator there to get up to security. I arranged for it to be empty. You'll be able to see everything from there. That is after I get my terminal set up on the top floor of this building. Don't worry, it'll be done before you even get into the building. The gas bombs'll go off at exactly seven. The rest is just to watch the show."

"_But you have something planned yourself, don't you?_" Scarecrow said, tilting his head to the side at an odd angle.

I could not tell if he was amused or pissed, "Yes, of course."

Jonathan nodded, "_I see. As long as it does not interfere. Where is the basement?_"

"There," I pointed to the door. "It pretty strait forward from there. Be careful, Jon."

Then he laughed, a high-pitch, freaky Scarecrow laugh, "_Jon? There is no Jon. Only Scarecrow_."

I smiled; Strangely enough, I really was starting to like it when he got like that. "Fine, Spooky. Just get going."

Turning and running at full sprint, Jonathan left down the maintenance tunnel. I smirked to myself and headed for the elevator. Things were going smoothly; No cops, no bat, and Jon was nearly back to his old self. I just need to get my things in order. I left the garage, coming into the marble floored interior. This building was a office building for a rather shady company owned by a local mob, mostly for money laundering. I walked the halls freely; They would not give me any trouble. Not that I encountered any one on my way. I found the elevator and stepped in. I pressed the button for the top floor and leaned against the wall. The elevator was on the outside of the building, glass all on one side. It was a great view of this cesspool of a city. It was dark out now, snowing again. The orange glow from the street lights making the sky an odd purple hue. It was almost beautiful, except for the riot of animal activist standing down in the street below. I hated hippies; Mostly because so many of them were so stupid. Wanting to save the planet and animals from the ravages of man and his machines is all well and good, but how many of them are willing to give up their comfortable lives to do it? Their cell phones, laptops, and Ipods have to be made somewhere and out of something. Even the veggie-eating Vegans' food had to be grown on a farm that displaced animals and plants. Not to mention, their pot had to be grown somewhere as well, by gun-toting drug lords. Did not one of them actually take the time to think of these things? If you ask me, if they want to save the planet, they should kill themselves.

The elevator came to a stop and I got off. I made my way down the darkened hallways. This place was so bland, just normal office carpet and white plaster walls. I scoffed; I had to stay focused. Reaching the corner office, I went into the unlocked door. Inside there was a terminal set up on a desk, just as I requested. That girl, Pumpkin, she did not have the most common sense, but she was brilliant when it came to her job. I walked around and sat in the chair at the desk. I booted up the computers and started setting up. These computers were already directly linked into the Wayne Tech building's security systems and a few of the surrounding buildings' as well. She even went as far to set up a tablet just in case I had to run. I took a head set off the desk and placed it on.

"Jonathan? Hey, Scarecrow, are you there?" I spoke into the microphone. It was silent. I started to worry a bit. Did he run into some trouble? Maybe I had been double crossed? Or did the bat catch wind of my plan? I started to get up, when my headset crackled.

"...hear you just fine. I did not know how to turn it on." Jonathan said over the set, speaking normally. I cycled through the incoming video feed and found Jon standing in the security office.

I breathed easier. The computers were done loading up the necessary programing, so I began my plan.

X-X

Edward's voice came clearly over the head set I had gotten off of the desk in the security room. "Okay, here's the deal: As soon as things get in order from my end, you'll be able to see all the video feed from the cameras in your building and the external cameras on the near-by buildings. However, I have to control the feed, so just let me know when you when you want me to switch things around. Pumpkin even rigged up audio from the lobby of the building you're in."

I sighed, "So, is there anything I can do here?" 

The head set was quite a moment, then Edward spoke again, "You can flip through the Wayne tech security cameras, just not the others. It's five till now. I can use the security system to lock down the lobby of that building. That should keep some people around a little longer. As for out in the street, the gas bombs are in the street drains and under the manhole covers, so I don't know what kind of coverage they'll have. I can-"

I interrupted him, "Not anything to worry about. It should be effective one way or another."

"Right. Here we go. Locking down now. If you want to leave, Spooky, it'll have to be off the roof."

I knew he could see me so I only nodded. I looked over the video screens; there were nine of them along the wall above the desk, each labeled at the bottom corner which area they covered. I watched the lobby screen as the heavy safety glass doors locked themselves and panicked protesters ran beating against them. Then Edward's voice came over the PA system.

"Good evening, Gotham City Animal Rights Foundation members! I am, as you probably already know, the famous and most incredible genius, the Riddler! I have a little game for you tonight! The security pass codes for this building have been changed, and in order to leave the building you must answer me this. The answer is the new password." He cleared his throat, "Riddle me this: I stand guard for a threat from the skies that is relativity harmless to all but that I guard. I guard not country, city, or home yet I protect something important. I do not fight my enemy, merely scare them away. What am I?"

I scoffed; he made that too easy. This would be another failure because of his foolishness. I watched the lobby screen. Oddly enough, no one was trying to to put in any sort of guess into the security system. They were all in a panic, beating on the doors and windows. The fear toxin had just now started to leak in, but they were already in a full blown riot. I watched, enthralled. This would be a most interesting experiment.

Edward spoke over the PA again, "Oh, and do try to hurry. That is unless you want to face your worst fears. All of them, at the same time. That would be fine with me. Riddle me this: What is it that hippies are afraid of? Global warming? Animal extinction? Soap? Holding a decent job? How about this one: being gassed to death by fear toxin?"

The riot in the lobby intensified. People were clawing and hitting one another, screaming. Those who were not smashing up against the safety glass front of building were attacking each other. I smiled. Most interesting. I spoke over the headset, "Edward, give me a street view."

The top three monitors flashed to a view of the street below. It was about the same as in the lobby, only much better. There was a young man firing off a pistol in all directions, people running about, and others falling and being trampled. Very satisfying reaction. There was no audio for the street but I could hear the screams. There were people trying to flee in cars, running down others as they went. In the lobby, despite the more controlled environment, it seemed there was already a few casualties among the subject. A large blood splatters against the building front windows and a couple of crumpled figures below it suggested so. It was a pity I had missed the event. No matter, there was much more going on. The police had arrived, but due to the gas still pouring out of the sewers, they had only became part of the riot. Now the sounds of gunshots, car tires screeching, and, of course, screams drowned out everything else. Wonderful, this was proving to be a most useful experiment.

"Jon," Nygma's voice came over the head set again. "There's someone on the roof of your building."

"The Bat?"

"No, Jonathan. Someone...weird."

?-?

I looked at the person on the roof top camera feed, but it seemed so unreal. Who ever the hell it was had on the strangest outfit I had ever seen. It was all white and angular, almost boxy. They looked like a PlayStation-era video game character. Only with no details, just solid white from head to toe. I at first thought it was just some kind of joke, maybe a hacker dicking with the feed. But that person was up there and doing something.

"Let me see," Jon's voice made me jump. I switched over the feed to show him. He snapped at me, "What the hell is that?"

"I don't know," I watched the strange figure, as it set up what looked to be crosses on the front of the building. "But I'm betting they're not friendly."

"I'm going up there."

"NO! Jon, wait!" It was too late. I watched him, on the video feed. He dropped the head set and headed out of the door and down the hall to the elevator. Shit. I got up from the desk and ran out. Down the hall and into the stairwell, I ran as fast as my legs would carry me. I had grabbed the tablet computer off the desk before I left; I looked down at it. Two feeds were coming in. I had the cameras following Jon and the one on the roof watching that freak in the white suit. Jon had taken the elevator. There was no way I could get there before he did. I began jumping down sections of stairs. I had to hurry. God knows the Batman was probably already on his way too.

I finally made it to the bottom of the stairs. I ran out to the garage and into the basement. I looked to the tablet again. Jon was headed out to the roof. The white psycho had hung up three of those crosses and on them, were three scarecrows. No, they were not scarecrows. They were people in Scarecrow costumes, Jon's costumes. Probably dead people; they weren't moving. I was struck with a horrible realization; That white-suited nut-job was Jon's copycat. I dropped the tablet and ran head long down the tunnel. Jonathan was in trouble, no time to waste.

X-X

I busted through the door to the roof top. The figure in white stopped and stared at me, presumably. The suit was total solid with no way of telling who or what it was under there. I stepped forward cautiously.

"_Who are you?_" I hissed to the unidentifiable person.

He only laughed, filtered through some sort of voice changer. It sounded computerized. The person in white held a hand out to one side, holding something in the hand. A detonator. Before I could even react, he hit the switch. There was an explosion off the front of the building and the sound of shattering glass. The scarecrows that he had set up on the roof fell from the crosses they were hung on, ropes around their necks keeping them from falling down to the street. I knew then. This was the thief I had been chasing.

"So, Jonathan Crane, we meet again." The white-suited bastard said, the voice changer not hiding the sneer in his voice.

"_Again?_" I growled, reaching into my coat. "_What do you mean?_"

He stepped backward, away from me, nearing the edge of the building. "Just what I said."

"_Who are you?_"

"Sine Somnia." He said, then jumped from the rooftop. I ran to the edge of the roof. As he fell, a cape-like glider popped from the figures strange suit. He then drifted down. I pulled Batman's line launcher out of my coat and aimed it at a statue lower down the building. I shot it and was jerked downward. This Sine Somnia drifted down, closer and closer to the street. I shot back and forth, climbing down on the building's grotesques, but I was falling behind. I had to hurry.

?-?

I could not get into the basement of the Wayne Tech building. I turned around and ran back down the tunnel. This was not good. I had to get up there somehow. As I neared the end of the tunnel, back to the basement of the mob building, I picked back up the tablet. Neither that freak nor Jonathan were on the roof anymore. The other feed had lost Jon. I continued to run, cycling through the camera, trying to find either one of them. Then I found them. The were on the street. Jon was chasing after the white-suit. They were headed this way. I had to get to them.

I ran out of the garage, scaring the hell out of a few bystanders. I looked down at the tablet; Jon and the blocky guy were headed right toward me. Great, I could cut him off. I dropped the computer again and ran strait ahead. I could see that guy now. I held my cane back, like a baseball bat, ready to swing when he got in range.

X-X

I chased that bastard down the street, through a crowd of screaming people. They parted as the both of us dashed down the sidewalk. Ahead, Edward was headed strait for Sine Somnia, cane readied to swing. As the Riddler neared, he swung. The suited person leaned back, nearly bending in half, avoiding Edward strike. Then, he landed back on his hands, bringing a leg up and kicking Nygma square in the crotch. Edward fell to the ground, and Somnia vaulted over him. The white figure then moved behind a car, throwing the trunk open. I jumped over the Riddler, hoping to catch the bastard before he finished whatever it was that he was doing. No such luck. Sine Somnia jumped on to what appeared to be some sort of skate board. Only it was wheel-less, a hover craft, and moved at incredible speeds. He took off down Elm.

I turned back and ran into the garage Nygma had come out of. Edward stumbled to his feet and followed. I quickly mounted my motorcycle and started it up.

"Spooky...what...are you gonna...do?" He huffed out, rather winded.

"_Following him. Are you coming along?_"

"Of course, I jus-"

I did not give him the chance to finish. I jerked him onto the bike. This cycle was obviously not made for two, as it was rather awkward. Luckily, I was thin enough that Edward fit, although I was in his lap a bit. Not the time to worry about it though. I tore out of the garage, causing Nygma to scream in surprise and clutch tightly to me. Sine Somnia was not out of sight just yet. I could still catch up to him. I weaved through traffic and avoided bystanders. The snow was coming down hard, but luckily this bike had good tires on it. Not as good as Batman's, but hopefully I would not need to worry about that.

Then, out of an ally and up over a car, came another motorcycle. A purple one. It pulled up behind me; I looked back in my mirror. Catwoman. This was turning in to an outright horrible night. I knew why she was here; Edward and I had ruined an animal rights protest. She would not be happy about that. I pulled back the throttle, moving closer to the person I was chasing. His hover board obviously did not have the speed my bike did. Somnia darted to one side, weaving around cars in an effort to lose me. I followed. So did Catwoman.

Then a third bike came out from a side street. This time it was the Batman. God damn it all to the seventh circle of hell. There was no way this could end well. The four of us were headed in the direction of Park Row. I knew Sine Somnia was headed there on purpose. If he made it, he could lose me in the construction sites. I had to get to him before then. The road was starting to clear; the police had blocked it off about a half mile ahead. Somnia swerved back and forth, erratic, perhaps at a lost. But then the held out an arm, something in his hand. One of the police cars exploded, making a gap in the road block. He zoomed through. I followed, and was followed by Catwoman, then Batman. After passing the road block, we were on the Gotham suspension bridge. Catwoman pulled up along my left side and Batman on the right. Batman signaled for me to pull over; Catwoman signaled that she intended to kill me. I ignored them both, pulling ahead. The front end of my bike bumped the back end of Sine Somnia's board. It put him off balance. I hit him again. He swung away, weaving all over. The four of us came off the bridge. This area was almost completely clear streets, with the exception of the police cars and helicopters circling. As we moved closer to Park Row, I heard the sound of a diesel truck's air horn. All of us in the chase, even Edward, turn and looked back. From a side street, smashing through two police cars like a bull through a couple of tea cups, came a huge Mac truck, painted bright purple and brandishing a giant clown face on the grill. Oh hell...

"People of Gotham!" The Joker's voice came booming out a loud speaker; presumably, he was in the truck. "Joker here! It looks like we have some real entertainment for you tonight!"

"That's right, Mista Jay!" Now Harley Quinn's voice, "It looks like the unda ground motacycle racin' league is havin' couples' night! Ya think our trunk is regulation, puddin'?"

"Ho, ho! Good one, Harley!" The Joker and Quinn continued to give a play by play of us, only going out of their way to hit cop cars as the followed. I knew they would not interfere; This would be too much fun for them to watch. I ignored all of them; I had to catch or at least kill that bastard Sine Somnia. In my mirror, I could see Catwoman pulling out her whip. She skidded up behind me snapping the whip, trying to catch my bike with it. Batman pulled along side her. He threw something, and Catwoman lost her weapon. She then pulled along side me and tried kicking me off the bike. I moved away, heading back toward Somnia.

He was swerving wildly now. We only had a few miles until Park Row. I had to stop him. I pulled the throttle all the way back. The bike kicked into high gear. I could feel the tires slipping a bit. It was fine I was still in control. The motorcycle pulled up beside Somnia. He looked over. I pulled over toward him. The cycle slipped again and I had to correct. Somnia did not adjust his course. He knew the wet road was affection my traction. I knew what I had to to. I would just wreak. If I died, I would take that son of a bitch with me. But I was hesitant...

"OH! Lookit, Sweets! Crane's trying to take out the new kid." The Joker laughed over the loud speaker on the truck. "And it looks like it's a kamikaze attempt!"

"Yeah, if I were Eddie, I'd hava pant load of chili-cheese right now!" Harley responded, laughing madly.

I swerved at Somnia again. He pulled away, then pulled a three-sixty turn and headed back the other way, toward the truck. I could not have turned fast enough in this snow to catch him. He was gone. In the mirror of my bike, I saw Sine Somnia swerve up on to the sidewalk and out of sight.

?-?

Jonathan went limp, letting go of the handle bars. The bike dipped sharply to the left. I grabbed the handle bars of the bike, leaning my head over Jon's shoulder; I had no idea what to do. The right handle rolled back as I held it and we started going faster. I was in a full blown panic now. The Batman, Catwoman, and the Joker and Harley were chasing us, Jon was dead stick, and I was driving a motorcycle. And it sure as hell did not help that I was freezing my nuts off. I was about a thousand percent sure we were going to die and it was going to suck. I could feel the road slipping under the tires, but I did not know how to slow down. Jonathan slouched against me, staring off into oblivion. The bike was now weaving all over. Catwoman and Batman had backed off. I could hear the Joker laughing and Harley saying something about a funeral.

"Goddamn it Jonathan, Dr. Crane, Scarecrow, fucking Santa Claus! I don't care! Just somebody drive this thing!" I screamed in his ear, "For fuck sake, Jon! I don't want to die!"

The bike weaved and shook. I could feel tears going down my face. This was it; I was going to die. Jonathan was going to die. And then we were going to go to hell.

Just as I thought that, Jonathan took hold of the handle bars. He laid his hands over mine, and he sat his head back up slowly. He began guiding my hands, rolling back the right side handle a little. We slowed enough to stop swerving but kept ahead of the rest. Jon drifted to one side of the street.

"_Listen to me. We need to get over to the docks. We can lose everyone there._" Jonathan said, just barely audible over the rush of wind and snow. "_But I need you to do something. You have to drive._"

"No, Jon! I can't! I can't!" I was shaking now and not from the cold. I knew Jon was crazy so I would leave that alone, but there was no way I could drive this damn thing.

"_Trust me, Edward. You can. I will help you for now._"

I felt sick. Jon kept his hands over mine, guiding me along. Catwoman pulled back up beside us again. She grimaced and kicked out her leg, trying to hit Jonathan.

"_Lean toward her._" Scarecrow ordered. I did, too much. The bike dipped and swerved violently toward Catwoman's bike. She looked panicked and pulled away quickly. Jon helped me correct the bike, laughing. That damn lunatic was having the time of his life.

Batman was just hanging back; He did not want any of us to die, so he would not be as inclined to attack us as Catwoman. She was already moving back toward me. I pulled away. Maybe Jon was right; I mean, I _knew _I could drive a motorcycle. But I just had never had the inclination to do so. And would like to have learned in a better situation. We tore right pass Park Row; There were cop cars every where, helicopters in the sky, and flood lights shinning from every direction. We were sandwiched between Batman and Catwoman, and the Joker's truck was gaining.

The Joker's rig's air horn blew again. His twisted voice came over the loud speaker again, "Come on! You all race like my grandmother! I got a new game to play. Let's see if I can get a cat, a bat, and a scarecrow stuck in my grill! Oh, but not a Riddler; I wanna see if he'll leave a green, question mark shaped smear on the asphalt!"

Jonathan pulled back on the right handle, "_Need to get moving. Hold the throttle back._"

I did as I was told. Jon let go of the handle bars.

"_Show me what you can do._" He began digging in his coat. I was steering the cycle well enough. We would reach the dock in a few minutes. That was, if we were not knocked off our bike and run over by the Joker. Several police cars pulled along side the Mac truck. The Joker laughed over the loud speaker again and smashed into the cops. He bounced the truck back and forth between the cars, blowing the air horn. Batman had enough; the dark knight jumped off his motorcycle, onto the front grill of the Joker's rig. I watched in the mirror, as the Batcycle went under the tires of the huge Mac's tires. The truck did not even slow down. Jon started throwing gas grenades like mad out of his coat. He must had dropped at least a dozen. Catwoman pulled away onto a side street, leaving only me and Jonathan in the Joker's path. We were getting closer to the docks; I was really glad it was pretty much a strait line. I looked in the mirror again; Batman was on the hood of the Joker's truck, punching the windshield.

Jon elbowed my ribs, "_Pay attention. We need to turn here._"

It was then that I realized, I did not know how to turn. I took a deep breath. Okay, Nygma it's just a bike. It cannot be any different than a normal bike. Oh, was I wrong. I turned the handles too hard. The bike tilted nearly dragging my face on the pavement. I tried to get us upright, but the tires slipped. The motorcycle tipped over and drug. I felt my leg being drug, but then the bike hit something; it was just the curb. Both me and Jonathan went rolling, the bike right after us. It was so weird. I knew it should hurt but it did not. We were doing like sixty, but the crash seemed to take an hour. I rolled to a stop on the side walk; Jon rolled a little further into a parking lot, face down. The cycle skidded to a stop just a few feet from my face. I struggled to sit up. I was pretty banged up, but I did think anything serious. I managed to get to my feet. Then I fell, a horrible pain shooting through my left leg. I looked down to see nothing but blood. My leg looked like ground chuck. I shook my head; Thank God for adrenalin. I got back to my feet and hobbled over to Jon. We had to get the fuck out of here before the cops caught up to us. I fell down next to Scarecrow. He was not moving. I turned him over carefully. Still nothing. I pulled back his mask. Jon was unconscious, glasses smash and nose bleeding. I checked his pulse; it seemed pretty normal. I was scared to move him, but I did not really have a choice. I scooped him up into my arms and ran. Which was a stupid idea; I only made it back over to the bike before I fell back on my ass. I could hear sirens. The cops were coming; We were going to get busted and Jon would be pissed at me. Fucking seriously.

Then, as if he realized we were in trouble, Jonathan woke up. His blue eyes darted about, then he just jumped up as if nothing happened. He stood the bike back up, got on, and started it again. He turned to me, eyes cold as the snow falling around us. The glow of the street lights shined off his dark hair, outlining him in an orange haze, and snow stuck on his cloths and in his hair. I could only stare. What are you, Jonathan?

"Get on." Jon said, flatly. I struggled to my feet again, and Jonathan grabbed and pulled me onto the bike. I through my arms around him, putting my face into his back.

X-X

I was totally lost. After the blackout and the crash, my head was spinning. Two cop cars pulled up in front of Edward and me. I took off, dashing off between the cars, nearly hitting the officers get out of them. I remembered what I was planning. I turned off into a shipping yard, cop cars in pursuit. There were thousand of steel shipping trailers, set up in a huge maze. I maneuvered the bike through the stacks, darting erratically. Weaving in and out of stacks of steel storage trailers, I retained my focus. It was easy to lose the police cars. The helicopters were gone, probably following the Joker. I turned the bike into an open trailer and stopped it. I turned off the bike and jumped off, Edward dragging along with me. I shut the trailer and fell against it, sliding down to the floor. I lie on the floor, on my side, trying to catch my breath. Edward still clung to me, lying on me. He was injured severely, bleeding everywhere. Edward laughed loudly.

"Jon, I can't believe you." He slummed up, putting his ripped up leg out strait, "Ha ha, look at this..."

I took off my coat, shook all the things out of it, and wrapped this around his leg, "Don't talk. You've lost a lot of blood."

He smiled at me, in a daze. He laid back on the floor and started to mumble something. I could not understand him. I shook him a little.

"Edward, don't pass out on me," I said. No, I was whining. What was wrong with me?

Nygma smiled and started singing something rather off key.

"As lead rains, will pass on through our phantoms

Forever, forever

Like scarecrows that fuel this flame we're burning

Forever, and ever

Know how much I want to show you you're the only one

Like a bed of roses there's a dozen reasons in this gun"

I sighed; he was not with me anymore. I took the ropes off my ankles and tied my coat around his bloody leg. It would be fine as long as he did not bleed to death. No, that was wrong. He could bleed to death, I supposed. Maybe it would do just leave him here. But yet...

"Edward, don't pass out!" I shook him hard. "Tell me some riddles."

He laughed, "Riddle me this: I...I am cold and unforgiving as deep winter. I am as cruel and merciless as the most evil of demons. I inflict pain and suffering no one can escape. I control and enthrall many a powerful man. I live in the soul of every person and no one can escape my scrutinizing judgment. What am I?"

"An ego." I answered, opening the door slightly. No sign of the police in sight. We still could not leave yet; The area would still be swarming with cops, but if we waited to long they would start searching. I tried to work out a plan.

Edward laughed again, "Okay, too easy. Riddle me this: First I slid home. Fortune is so hopeless. Foundation inquiries stop helping. Flying in sideways helicopters. What am I?"

I closed the door again. I was at a loss for a escape, not Edward's riddle, "The answer is fish."

"Damn it," He bit his lip. "You know what? You never answer the riddle I asked you before we left."

"Shh," I held out my hand. I could hear a car pull up. I peered out the crack in between the doors. There was a lone police officer in a car. This was a great opportunity. I hit the door with my fist. I stood up behind the right side and the cop opened the left door.

Edward smiled stupidly at the police officer, "Hey there, buddy!"

I slammed the cop up against the wall, hitting his head hard. He went down without a struggle. I took of his hat and uniform shirt, putting them on. I took his badge and gun as well. Dragging the unconscious cop over into the trailer, I looked back at my bike. No, I would have to leave it. I sighed. Such a pity. I walked over and help Edward to his feet. We left the trailer and went to the still running cop car. I put Edward in the back and got up front. I put the car into drive. The on-board computer read one-thirty in the morning. It would be a long day.

"Where are we going?" Edward whined from the back seat.

"_The blood goes splosh and the wheels go round_

_Giddy up, we're homeward bound._"


End file.
